THE LEGEND OF HUMA

Volume One of the Heroes Series

By Richard A. Knaak

PROLOGUE

It is very rare that I, Astinus, Master Historian of Krynn, find myself penning a personal note for inclusion in my chronicles. I have done so only once in recent memory, that being after the mage Raistlin came within a breath of becoming an all-powerful deity, mightier even than Paladine and Takhisis. He failed, else I probably would not be writing this, but it was a failure deserving of note.

While commenting on that incident, I came to realize that a vicious error had been discovered in my older volumes. By the handwriting, I suspect that one Paulus Warius, an assistant of mine some three centuries before and notable more for his clumsiness than his ability to keep records, must have accidentally destroyed part of some three or four older volumes and then replaced the damaged pages with what he assumed were correct copies. They were not.

The error concerns the transitory period between what are now called the Age of Light and the Age of Might. Ergoth, for instance, was a much older empire than is noted in the false history. Vinas Solamnus in fact commanded Ergoth's armies by 2692 P.C., not fourteen centuries later as the false history claims. The Second Dragon War, noted incorrectly as a Second and Third war by Warius because it lasted more than forty-five years, ended in 2645

P.C. It was here I first learned of the grave mistakes, for I had opened the pages concerning those last few years in order to make reference to Huma, Knight of Solamnia, a man of very mortal flesh who faced and defeated Takhisis, goddess of evil, the Dragonqueen. I had intended, after the end of the Second Dragon War, to note Huma's exploits but, as it always happens, my mind was on my work.

I have spent more time with this than I had originally allotted myself. Perhaps it is because I, too, felt some relief after that struggle, for I had been ready to close the final volume of this world's history at one point. It would have been a shame, as my collection at that time consisted of only a few hundred thousand volumes. For this alone I remember Huma.

His story, fortunately, is still intact in this volume, and I will let that speak for him. Astinus of Palanthas

360 A.C.

CHAPTER 1

The army passed through a village on its west to Kyre. The village, called Seridan, had been set upon by plague, starvation, and madness, each seeming to take turns and each killing many of the inhabitants. In a lifetime long ago, the village had been prosperous. Now, shacks and makeshift shelters stood where clay brick buildings had fallen to the raids of bold goblins and marauding dark dragons. For some reason, the village had never been destroyed. It just continued to waste away—much like the people who tried to exist there. The appearance of a column of knights did little to cheer the village. In fact, the inhabitants seemed to feel more than a little resentment at the way the riders and footsoldiers paraded through the mud track that was all the village could call a road. The strife-worn residents felt resentment for the way of life they assumed the Knights of Solamnia led, a way of life that they believed must be better than what each of them faced daily. At the head of the column, resplendent in his chain and plate armor, rode Lord Oswal of Baxtrey. The intricate pattern of roses displayed on his breastplate revealed him to be a member of the Solamnic order that took that same flower for its symbol. The purple cloak that flowed behind him was attached by a clasp bearing the likeness of a kingfisher with its wings 2

partly spread and a crown above its head. Below the bird, grasped tight in its claws, was a sword with a rose atop it.

Most of the knights were clad as Lord Oswal, although their armor was much more worn and their cloaks tended to be plain in comparison with their commander's. Lord Oswal's cloak was a sign of his rank—High Warrior, master of the Order of the Rose, and currently second in command to the Grand Master, he who ruled the knighthood itself. As they rode, the High Warrior glanced quickly at the rider to his side. They might have been from the same mold, with their hawklike features and the long flowing mustaches that were popular among the knights. Oswal's features, though, were tempered by age and a truer understanding of the world he lived in, whereas the other, younger by some twenty-odd years, still held steady to the belief that his was the hand that would change the world. They were, in fact, related. Bennett was his nephew and son of Trake, the Grand Master himself. The arrogance so set in Bennett's face indicated that he already saw himself as his father's successor.

Lord Oswal hoped Bennett would learn temperance by then. The young knight was of the mind that the knights followed the will of Paladine and, therefore, that they would triumph because their cause was just. Lord Oswal knew that that was not always the case. The expressions of the younger knights in procession were carefully prepared, emotionless masks. Soon enough they would learn the cruel facts of the world. Lord Oswal knew that the younger knights—and many older ones—still saw themselves as heroes—

heroes for a world already lost.

One, in particular. Lord Oswal thought, and opened his mouth to shout.

"Rennard! Up front!"

Huma watched the tall, almost gaunt knight ride forward. If Lord Oswal wished to speak to Rennard, then something was afoot. That something might involve Huma himself, for Rennard seemed to watch him keenly— although Huma was already blooded. Perhaps, like Huma himself, Rennard still believed that here was one who never should have been accepted into the ranks.

Huma bounced as his warhorse stumbled in the mud. The visor of his helmet slammed down in front of his face, startling him. He reached up and raised it, allowing the cool wind to bite at his handsome, if somewhat weathered, features. Though his mustache was not as grand as that of Bennett or the High Warrior, there was some dignity in the slight gray that prematurely touched it and the rest of the hair on his head. His visage was surprisingly soft—

so much so that the others occasionally commented on his youth, although not when he was nearby.

Huma could not help staring at the grimy, torn clothing of Seridan's women and children. Even his own armor, worn as it was and much less intricately decorated than that of Lord Oswal, seemed made of gold when compared to what they had. Their rags hung loosely, and Huma wondered how often these people ate and how much—and what they ate, for that matter. The rebellious part of his nature wanted to take his pack from the saddle and throw it to the villagers. Let them have the rations stored in there. It probably would be the best meal they had eaten in weeks.

"Keep up, you!" the knight behind him growled—and Huma realized how close he had actually come to giving away his rations. He knew it was wrong, as the knighthood rules proclaimed, but it was still a strong desire. Another sign of his inadequacies, he thought with a sigh, and wondered why his petition to join the knighthood ever had been granted. His thoughts were interrupted by Rennard. Like Huma, the older knight carried a shield whose markings proclaimed his place in the Order of the Crown. Rennard, though, had many years of practical experience and therefore was a commander in his own right. His visor 3

hid all but the two piercing, ice-blue eyes and only hinted at the face. Rennard had few friends even among the Order of the Crown.

Rennard returned Huma's stare, then looked at the section as a whole. "Gaynor. Huma. Trilane. . . ." He barked eight names in all. "Break from the column for patrol duty." The words betrayed no emotion. Rennard was methodical, a strategist of high caliber. One could not ask for a better leader in time of combat. Nevertheless, his presence always seemed to chill some part of Huma's soul.

"Lord Oswal wants the dead woods to the south searched over. Possibly goblins, maybe the ogres. We have to return to the column before sunset." Briefly, Rennard looked up at the perpetually overcast sky. Always, it seemed about to rain, but it never did. "Before total darkness. We do not want to be in the woods at night. Not this close to the western border. Understood?" When the knights assented, he turned his horse, a tall, pale animal much like its rider, and signaled the others to follow.

In minutes, thankfully, they were far away from Seridan. The ground was hard and easier for the mounts to trod upon. That was not surprising—the fire, which had killed much of the forest they rode toward, had baked the nearest fields. No food would grow here for years to come.

It was all so useless sometimes, Huma thought. Where was Paladine? Huma wondered that the god could allow this to happen, and he glanced at the ashy stubs of trees as the patrol rode along. Krynn might as well be in the claws of Takhisis already, the way things were going.

He clamped his mouth tight. That he dared call himself a knight after thoughts such as that!

As they reached the first patch of gnarled, twisted trees, the knights lowered their visors. From a distance, they might have looked like demons, for the horns or wings that decorated the sides of each knight's helmet were now more evident. The more elaborate, the higher the rank, save in Rennard's case. Typical of his ways, he had only a crest that rode from the front all the way down the back.

The woods were but one more sorry victim of the seemingly endless war that had razed the continent of Ansalon. Huma wondered what this land had looked like before the Dragonqueen's creatures had ravaged it. The dead trees gave the woods an evil look. The patrol was unusually tense. Eyes darted here and there, as each knight sought a foe behind the blackened trunks.

Huma clutched at the hilt of his sword. For a brief moment, a motion seemed to catch his eye. A wolf? In this barren land? As the knights moved on, he noted no new movement. Nerves. There was no life in these woods. There was nothing but sorrow. Rennard called for a halt with the raising of one hand. Even he did not seem to wish to speak, as if the sound would release an unwanted presence.

"Spread out. You four to my right," he said, gesturing at Huma and three others. "The rest to my left." He drew his sword.

The others followed suit and moved into position, with one man between Huma and the patrol leader. Rennard gave the signal to advance. The knights kept a slow but steady pace.

The woods curved over a hill, one of the few in this area. If goblins or ogres lurked anywhere nearby, they would be here. Rennard pointed at the knight to Huma's left and sent the man forward. The rest of the patrol stopped and waited. The scout climbed off his horse and made his way to the top of the rise. The others watched anxiously as he peered over the top, and as quietly and quickly as he could, returned to the knights and horses. Huma, who had taken the reins of the other's horse, handed them back.

"Well?" Rennard asked quietly.

4

"Goblins. The ugly creatures are eating. A marauder patrol, I think. Must be at least twenty. No more than several dozen, I think."

Rennard nodded in satisfaction. "Nothing we cannot handle." Huma thanked Paladine that his visor hid his own worried face. Rennard pointed at the scout, Huma, and the two knights to Huma's right. "Ride around the right side. We'll take the left. When you hear an owl, ride in. Huma, you will take charge of your group."

Some of the other knights shifted uneasily, but no one would argue. Huma gazed at the visors of his three companions and had no trouble reading the eyes of each man. He almost asked that someone replace him as leader, but Rennard was already turning his band away. Huma chose to say nothing, and he turned his own mount. Whatever their personal feelings, the three were Knights of Solamnia. They had been given an order, and they would obey. To his relief, they followed him without murmur.

The ride was not long, but it was slow and cautious. The goblins were sloppy in every aspect of their lives, including military procedure, but there might be an enterprising leader among them who might have thought to post guards. Goblins in general were of little strategic use in the plans of the Dragonqueen's warlord—save as marauders. Knowing this and knowing that most goblins fought with little, if any, true skill, did not ease Huma's mind, however. Huma could see no guards, and he dared to climb from his horse and survey the goblin camp from a small rise. That the creatures were ugly was an understatement. Their skins were a sickly green, teeth protruded from every inch of their mouths, and their eyes reminded the knight of frogs' eyes. The goblins were squat and misshapen, but they were also very strong. Many carried axes, and a couple even hefted crude bows. Their armor appeared to be compilations of everything they could rummage from the battlefields. As Huma watched, a goblin came rushing over to the apparent leader, who was twice as big and ugly as any of his subordinates. The smaller goblin whispered something to the patrol leader, who stiffened and barked out orders.

Huma knew what had happened. Either the newcomer had been a guard or he had wandered away from the camp for some reason. Whatever the case, the goblins apparently realized that Rennard and the others were approaching from the other direction, and they were now preparing for a fight. Within seconds, the normally disorganized goblins had formed themselves into an attack formation that, with the element of surprise, meant that Rennard and his companions would almost certainly be struck down. There was no time to send someone to warn them.

"Get ready!" Huma whispered as he climbed back onto his horse. Sword in hand, he turned back to the others. "We go now!"

"Now?" one of the others asked. The trio looked from one another and back to Huma. Huma had no time for their hesitation. Sword and shield ready, he kicked his mount in the sides. The horse charged, and Huma, waving his blade above his head, shouted the charge.

"Paladine!"

His courage shocked him, but no more than it shocked the goblins. As one, the creatures turned to face this unexpected menace. The horse charged into the midst of the camp, the knight's sword already coming down on the nearest goblin. The goblin raised his rusty broadsword in some semblance of defense, but Huma's swing shattered the weapon and then the owner himself.

Huma's only desire was to cut down as many of the enemy as possible and give Rennard and his men the chance they needed. Another goblin fell to his sword, and then the rest rushed toward the lone attacker, readying bows and raising pikes. The goblins would not be content to take him prisoner, he knew.

Then Huma heard the shouts behind him and knew that the other three had joined the fray. He fought with greater enthusiasm now, knowing that a chance for life still existed. 5

Some of the goblins broke away from the four horsemen. The others tried to regroup under the hurried commands of the patrol leader.

More battle cries filled the air and Huma glanced up to see Rennard and the others coming from the goblins' rear. Those of the enemy patrol who had tried to flee fell under the powerful hooves of the warhorses. Rennard methodically cut down two who tried to stand against him, then he urged his mount onward. His movements hinted of a near-eagerness. One of the knights in Huma's group was dragged from his horse and a heavy ax finished him before Huma could react. Seconds later, Huma rode down the goblin standing over its kill. The ugly creature had only time to look up before the warhorse's front hooves caught it in the head, cracking the skull open.

The goblins, knowing they were lost, fought with a rare determination. Only three horsemen blocked their path to freedom. Huma barely blocked a savage swing. An arrow flew past his head.

Suddenly, a howl shivered through the air.

Something leaped at Huma's steed. The knight caught a brief vision of something akin to a wolf in form—but the resemblance ended with the thing's corpse-white pallor, as though it had been skinned. The yellow, dripping fangs seemed as long as his fingers and as sharp as needles. Then Huma's warhorse screamed and turned, despite the knight's protests. Straining every muscle, the animal raced from the skirmish, mindless of the frantic rider clinging to it. Somewhere close behind, the thing howled again. Huma could only clutch the reins and hang on for the wild ride. The sounds of fighting faded as the maddened horse rushed deeper and deeper into the charred forest.

What could so terrorize a trained warhorse? Certainly no earthly beast. Then, even that thought vanished from Huma's mind as his mount broke through the blackened limbs of a knot of trees and found the earth was suddenly far, far below.

CHAPTER 2

It was dark when Huma returned to consciousness.

Lunitari, in wane, glittered weakly, casting a slight crimson tinge. Like blood, Huma thought, and then he forced that thought quickly away. If Lunitari were in wane, which of the other moons would be waxing? Solinari was nowhere to be seen. If it was indeed Nuitari that waxed, Huma would never know it. No one saw the dark moon—no one save the Black Robes, those mages who worshipped the dark god of magic. The dark moon was invisible to common folk and perhaps even to those who followed the paths of white and red magic as well.

As his senses cleared, he became more aware of his surroundings. The horse lay beneath him, its neck broken by the fall. The heavy padding in Huma's armor, combined with the mass of the horse, had prevented the knight's death.

He tried to rise and nearly blacked out. All that padding had not been enough to prevent a concussion. While he waited for his head to clear again, Huma looked around. This might once have been a river in a time when the rains had fallen more often. Its depth, at least four times Huma's height, was more than enough to kill a crazed steed, even one as strong as the warhorse.

The other side of the river bed lay some distance away. Judging by the sickly growths that barely could be called plants, he suspected this river had dried up many, many years before, possibly in the early days of the war, when the Dragonqueen had sought a quick, decisive victory over the followers of Paladine.

6

Huma dared once more to attempt to stand. He found that the pounding in his head subsided to mere annoyance if he did not bend his neck abruptly or look down too swiftly. With this in mind, he succeeded in staying on his feet.

"Gods." The word came unbidden, for Huma was only just now realizing that he was alone in hostile territory. The others must think him dead. Dead—or perhaps a coward who had run.

A mist was developing, sending cold, feathery fingers wisping through the ravine. He could wait out the night and begin his trek at first light—which might mean walking into another goblin patrol—or he could travel by night and pray that whatever lurked out there would be just as blind in the dark mist as he. Neither prospect pleased him, but he could think of no other choice.

He found that the pain in his head had lessened a bit so that now he was able to search the ground for his sword. It lay near, undamaged. His pack was another problem. Part of it was buried beneath his mount and, while Huma was strong, the animal's position made it virtually impossible for him either to lift the horse or roll it over. He had to satisfy himself with a few rations, a tinderbox and flint, and a few personal items, pried from the unhindered portion of the pack.

Huma did not like the thought of traveling by night, but he liked the idea of traveling alone in plain sight by daylight even less. He picked up his things and, sword in hand, started up the sides of the river bed. The mist would be thinner above, and the high ground was always more advantageous, strategically. At least, Huma hoped so.

* * *

The mist never got worse, but neither did it get any better. Huma could make out most of the stars, but his ground-level vision extended only ten feet or so, and he was hard-pressed to make out details in the red moon's weak attempt at illuminating the shroud-covered land. The sword stayed at the ready in Huma's left hand. He had no shield; it must have been lost in the horse's mad flight.

Thinking of that, Huma could not help remembering the demonic visage he had glimpsed. If that thing were out there somewhere . . . His grip on the hilt tightened. He had traveled an hour when he heard the harsh, mocking voices. Goblins! Huma ducked behind a rotting tree trunk. No more than ten yards separated him from them. Only the mist had saved him. At least three, maybe four, goblins seemed to be joking over the fate of someone. A prisoner, perhaps. Although one part of Huma urged him to slip away safely, another demanded that he lend whatever aid he could. Carefully, he slipped closer and listened.

A rusty, grating voice jarred his aching head. "I thinks the warlord himself will reward us fer this one."

A deeper voice joined the first, "Maybe he'll give us the bull. I'd like to be the one to skin him fer a rug. He killed Guiver."

"You never liked Guiver!"

"He owed me money! Now I'll never get it!"

A third voice cut in. "How do ya think the ogres will kill 'im?" Huma strained his ears and caught the sound of a knife being sharpened on stone.

"Real slow. They got sneaky minds fer that kinda stuff." Something rattled chains, and Huma tried to place the location. Somewhere far to the right, he thought.

"He's awake."

"Let's have some fun."

Chains rattled again, and a voice, resonant and spanning the distance with no trouble, responded. "Give me a weapon and let me fight."

7

"Ha!" The goblins snickered. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Cowface? We ain't fools, ya know."

"You'll do until some come along." Suddenly the voice grunted, as if exerting great effort. The goblin voices—four, Huma estimated—quieted until the grunting became a gasp for breath. The chains rattled.

“I thought he was gonna do it for a minute!"

“Two coppers'll get ya that he can!"

“What? You fool! You'd bet on something like that?"

"Guiver would've."

Huma, so engrossed in the goblins, almost missed the soft tread behind him. When he did, he was sure that he had been seen. The newcomer, though, continued walking and Huma soon realized that the creature, a goblin guard, could not see well in the mist. Still, a few steps more would bring the goblin close enough that not even a dense fog would save the knight. Summoning his courage, Huma quietly circled behind the guard. He matched the goblin step for step, save that his own stride was half again as long. Each step brought him that much closer. Only a few more . . .

A roar bellowed angrily from the camp. Knight and goblin turned without thinking, then stared at one another as realization sank in. Huma was the first to react, leaping at the goblin in a desperate attempt to silence him. Sword and body caught the creature and it fell to the ground—but not before the goblin let out a muffled shout.

* * * *

"Pigsticker?"

Huma cursed his luck and scrambled away from the body. The goblins had abandoned tormenting their captive—who was evidently the source of the bellowing— and were now cautiously making their way in the direction they believed their companion had called out from.

"Pigsticker!"

"He's probably tripped on a rock again."

"Well, what's he gone and done, then—cracked open his head? Pigsticker!"

"I think I should stay back here. Just in case."

"Snee's back there. Ya come with us or I'll give ya a piece of what the bull's gettin'."

"Okay, okay!"

The goblins were making more than enough noise to cover Huma's movements, and the mist hid him even though one of the creatures, amazingly, had thought to carry a torch. They soon would come across the body of their dead comrade, though, and that would bring Huma's advantage to an end.

His maneuvers brought him close to the perimeter of the camp. He thought he saw a large shape huddled on the ground, with perhaps a horned helmet atop its head, but the mists gave it odd proportions for a human—or even an elf or dwarf. A campfire burned low. A shadowy, lumpy figure moved near it, and Huma knew this must be the goblin, Snee, who had been left to guard the prisoner.

Despite the low illumination from the fire, Huma had no delusions about his chances of sneaking up on this goblin. The ground ahead gave no cover, and the jittery goblin was turning this way and that. Huma made out what appeared to be a wicked, two-handed ax in its paws.

Huma's free hand flattened across some small rocks, and the glimmerings of a plan flickered in his concussion-wracked head. Taking a handful of the rocks, he dared to get up on his knees. With a quick prayer to Paladine, he threw them to the far side of the camp, away from the prisoner.

8

The guard reacted predictably, much to Huma's relief. As the goblin scurried to investigate, Huma scooped up another handful of pebbles, stood up, and quietly made his way toward the back of the prisoner. Midway there, he threw the other handful, this time assuring that they would go even farther. His heart pounding, he covered the remaining ground. Whoever the prisoner was, he was huge. Huge and smelly. The helmet actually seemed to be some sort of head-dress, although Huma did not examine it closely enough to make sure.

"Be very still," Huma whispered.

Huma felt the body stiffen, but no reply came. From his angle, Huma could see that, unlike the arms which were chained, the legs were bound with rope. He reached down to his belt and pulled out a dagger, even as the other goblins suddenly let out a collective shout. They had discovered their comrade.

"Cut your bonds and run! I'll do my best to give you time!" Even as he said it, Huma wondered at his own daring—or foolishness, it was hard to say which. He only knew that, as a knight, it was his duty to risk his life for others.

Huma straightened even as Snee hurried back to find out the reason for the shouting. At first, the goblin mistook Huma for one of its companions, but recognition followed almost instantly and the goblin brought its ax around for a wild swing at the young knight. Huma dodged easily and nicked the goblin in one arm. At that, some sense returned to Snee, and the goblin called out for help.

There was no skill in the goblin's attacks, only brute force. Huma easily dodged each swing of the ax, but he knew that each moment of delay cost him greatly. Already, he could hear the other goblins stomping back to camp.

Then, the goblin who was the apparent leader gave a shout of surprise and yelled,

"The bull's loose!"

Indeed, something was loose, and Huma wondered who or what exactly he had released. With a wild, primitive cry, the shadowy form went tearing past Huma. The startled goblin dropped its ax with a clatter and followed it to the ground immediately afterward. Unarmed and with his hands chained, the other surely could not survive against three opponents. Yet, when Huma turned to offer aid, his first view was of a giant, hulking form that overwhelmed the goblins as if they were small children. One had gotten too close and now squirmed helplessly in the air above the former prisoner's head. The other two were backing away fearfully. Huma paused, suddenly unsure if moving closer was a wise move. The freed prisoner tossed the hapless goblin at the nearest of its two comrades, who, dodging the living projectile, squeaked and turned to flee. The two goblins collided with a bone-breaking crunch. They fell into a heap and lay still.

The lone survivor did not have time to react. The tall, muscular figure reached forward with both arms and wrapped its metal chain around the panic-stricken goblin's neck. With a single jerk that gave evidence of strength in those massive arms, the chains snapped the goblin's head back. The lifeless form dropped to the ground like a sack of oats. Huma came to a halt some twenty feet from the prisoner he had released. Whatever it was, it was at least a foot taller than Huma—no small man, himself—and almost twice as wide. The arms looked to be as thick as Huma's legs, and the legs looked as if they could bear their owner through a twenty-mile run without any sign of strain. The other had been satisfied to contemplate his revenge, but now as he straightened, he seemed to be studying the knight.

Again, the voice was deep and resounding. "You have my gratitude, Knight of Solamnia. I owe you my life, a debt I can never repay but one that I shall endeavor to compensate you for if it takes the rest of my days."

9

Huma stayed poised, but some of his unease vanished. "You owe me nothing. Anyone would have done the same."

The tall figure chuckled ominously. "Would they?" He turned to face the knight and, even in the dim light, it was obvious that the one he had freed was no man or elf. The horns were part of the creature, as was the thick, dark fur that covered the top and much of the back. As the goblins had so crudely put it, the other resembled nothing less than a bull with a body of a man.

A minotaur.

The minotaur took a few slow steps toward Huma, as if to prove he meant no harm. Although Huma's training cried out that this was an enemy—and one of the most fierce—his natural curiosity was fascinated by this creature. Few in the region ever saw a minotaur. The creature's homeland was far away on the eastern cost of Ansalon. Still, Huma's curiosity did not prevent him from raising his sword to a more defensive position. The creature's head seemed overly large, even for a body as massive as the minotaur's. Dark, thick fur covered the top and the back half, and a thin fuzz covered the rest. The minotaur's eyes were much like those of a real bull, save that an intelligence lurked within those orbs. The snout was short and broad, and the teeth that the creature's grin revealed looked more adapted to tearing flesh than green grass. Huma remembered some of the stories about this race, and he took an involuntary step backward.

The minotaur held up his long, wide hands and displayed the chains that bound them together. The fingers were thicker and more blunt than a man's and they ended in sharp nails—no, claws. Huma's own hands were like those of a year-old child in comparison.

"Unlike the goblins, who always need six times the number of their adversaries before they even dream of attack, I think you have the advantage over me. I'm sure you know how to use that fine weapon."

"I do," Huma finally managed to blurt out. "What were you doing here? Why were you a prisoner of these goblins? I've always heard the minotaurs were allies of the ogres." The crimson illumination of the moon gave the former captive's eyes a fearsome look.

"Slave soldiers would be a better term, Knight of Solamnia. We are no more than slaves to our cousins. They hold our lands and our families as hostages, though the word they use is protection. That is why we do what they cannot. One day, though, it will be the minotaurs who will rule. We await that day."

"Which does not explain why you were a prisoner here." Huma presented as confident a face as he could muster. It would not take much of the minotaur's strength to snap the young knight's neck. He had already seen proof of that.

The beast-man dropped his shackled arms and snorted. "I killed my ogre captain, human. I struck him down with my bare hands. A good blow. Cracked his skull with one shot."

The thought of striking, much less actually murdering, a superior appalled the knight. He raised his visor and dared to step close to the minotaur.

"You murdered him?"

"You like ogres? Thanks to me, no lives will be lost against his ax—and he was good, I'll give him that. Many died on that ax, human, even the weak, the helpless. I found him over the bodies of an aged male and two children, perhaps the old human's grandchildren. I did what I thought right. There is no honor in slaughtering the old, the feeble, or the young—at least, not among my kind. Not that they would have tolerated my betrayal. I had thought it was so among the Knights of Solamnia, too. I see that I may have misunderstood." The minotaur held up the chained wrists once more, causing Huma to take several quick steps back. "Either kill me or free me from these chains. I do not care to discuss this. The goblins have drugged what little food they gave me. This exertion has almost done me in." 10

Indeed, the minotaur was slumping. Huma came to a decision, overturned it, came to another, and finally settled again on the first. Even then, he did not act. Could he truly believe the words of the strange figure before him? The minotaurs were supposedly an honorable race, but they served the gods of evil. That was the way it was always taught. Huma's sword arm shivered, as much from his thoughts as from the long, awkward position he held it in. The man-beast waited patiently, as ready to die as to be freed. The calm and faith with which the former captive faced his rescuer finally made Huma's decision for him. He slowly and carefully sheathed his blade.

"Which of these had the keys?"

The minotaur fell to his knees. His breath came in huge huffs, like a bull about to charge. "The one I threw. He will have them if any do. I never saw the keys. They had no reason for them. After—after all, why would they want to release me?" While the exhausted defector rested, Huma went over to the goblin and checked the numerous pouches wrapped around the creature's waist. Each held a large number of items, many of them disgusting trophies of war—knowing goblins, more likely looted from the dead—and a few unrecognizable. In one of the pouches, he found the keys. The minotaur's eyes were closed, and Huma suddenly worried that one of the goblins had, after all, inflicted some mortal wound. At the clinking of the keys near his face, though, the burly figure opened his eyes.

"My thanks," he said, after Huma had freed both wrists. "By my ancestors twenty generations back, I will not rest until I have balanced the scale. You have my oath on that."

"There is no need. It—it was my duty."

Somehow, the minotaur managed a very human expression of skepticism.

"Nevertheless, I will honor my oath as I see fit. Let it not be said that Kaz is less than his ancestors."

Huma stood. "Can you walk?"

"Give me a moment." Kaz looked around quickly. "Besides, I have no desire to be out in the open tonight. I would prefer some sort of shelter."

"From what?" Huma could not imagine what would worry such a powerful fighter unless it was a dragon or some creature of similar proportions. Kaz rose slowly. "The captain was a current favorite of the warlord. I fear he might have unleashed some of the renegade's pets."

"I don't understand."

The minotaur suddenly turned his attention to acquiring a decent weapon. He spotted the ax dropped by Huma's first opponent, picked it up, and tested it. "Good. Probably dwarven." To Huma, he replied, "Let us hope there is no need. I do not think either of us would live through it."

In the hands of the goblin, the ax had looked large. Kaz, however, wielded it with the ease of one who was used to weapons of even greater size. The ax was meant for two-handed use; the minotaur needed only one massive paw to grasp it.

"In which direction did you plan to go?"

"North."

'To Kyre?"

Huma hesitated. He knew that many knights, even Bennett, would never have released such a creature from its bonds. They would have marched it at sword point through the wasteland. Most certainly, they would never tell the minotaur the final destination. If the socalled prisoner was in actuality a spy, such a slip of the tongue might prove fatal for more than just Huma. Yet, Kaz seemed a person of honor.

Huma held back only a moment more, then finally nodded. "Yes, Kyre. I hope to rejoin my comrades."

11

The minotaur swung the ax over his own shoulder and attached it to what Huma realized was a harness designed for just such a purpose. It was one of only two pieces of clothing Kaz wore, the other being a sort of kilt, or perhaps a large loin cloth.

"I fear that Kyre is an unwise choice for now, but I will not argue you out of it."

"Why unwise?"

Kaz gave his imitation of a human smile, a smile filled with anticipation. "Kyre is now the front. My cousins, the ogres, must be there even as we speak." He chuckled, sounding again like a snorting bull. "It will be a glorious struggle. I wish I could be there." Huma grimaced at the obvious pleasure in killing that his new companion expressed. Some of the tales concerning the strange minotaurs were evidently too true. Steeling himself, Huma wiped the drying blood from his weapon. He glanced only briefly at his newfound companion, who seemed to recognize some of the revulsion in Huma's face.

"You may come with me or go back to your own, Kaz," Huma said. "Whatever you desire. You may find the knighthood leery of accepting you as a deserter." Kaz did not hesitate. "I know some of what you feel, Knight of Solamnia. I understand all too well our many differences. Still, I owe you a debt and I would rather face your comrades than return to my own ranks and to a slow torture before I am executed. I have no desire to face ogres' tender mercies."

Something howled in the night, far away. It was a wolf, Huma decided, yet not a wolf. It was too cold, too—evil.

"We had best be off," Kaz quickly decided. "This is no place to be at night. The scent of death is sure to draw visitors here and I, Knight, would prefer to move on." Huma's eyes were still staring back at the direction of the cry. He nodded sharply, suddenly much more pleased with the minotaur's companionship. "Agreed." He reached out his right hand in friendship. "My name, friend Kaz, is Huma."

"Huma." The pressure exerted by the hand that covered Huma's was not enough to crush every bone, but it came close. "A strong name, that. A warrior's name." Huma turned quickly away and picked up his bags. How wrong the minotaur could be!

A warrior, indeed! Within his armor, Huma could feel every portion of his body shiver. He tried to imagine Bennett in his place, acting in the proper manner of a knight born to command. The thought only frustrated Huma more, for he knew that Bennett would never have ended up in a situation such as this.

They left the camp, with its dying fire and scattered refuse, and headed in the direction Huma had chosen. Neither spoke now, for varying reasons. Behind them— thankfully, sounding no closer than before—the cry rose again.

CHAPTER 3

The two wanderers found it impossible to travel too far before being forced to rest. Huma's head still bothered him, and Kaz was not fully over the effects of the drugged food he had been fed following his capture by the goblins.

"I was a fool! They caught me napping like a newborn and trussed me up good! I am many things, but not crazy enough to try rising to face two pikes that had me pinned to the ground. Even goblins can't miss at that range." The last made Kaz laugh, though Huma found little humor in the statement.

They finally agreed to stop at a small rise that would provide some protection. It was uncomfortably too much like the position that the first goblin patrol had chosen. Still, it was 12

better than wide-open terrain. Huma only prayed he would keep his eyes open long enough to wake the minotaur when it was Kaz's turn to watch.

They talked a little while, perhaps because neither felt safe about sleep. Huma spoke of the knighthood and its basic beliefs and organization. Kaz found the Knights of Solamnia interesting. Many aspects about it appealed to the easterner, especially the great respect for honor.

Kaz went into very little detail about his own people. They were great mariners, it was true, but their lives were now controlled by the ogres. They still had their tournaments of honor, where one rose in rank by defeating his opponent, but the ogres cared little for this method and chose new measures more appealing to their ways. Because of that, Kaz had already built up a great hatred of his so-called masters before his deadly clash with his captain. Anything was better than servitude to their kind, he felt. That Huma trusted Kaz with his life disturbed the Solamnian a little. He had already seen how savage the minotaur could become. Huma never could have snapped an opponent's neck with the efficiency and—eagerness—that Kaz had shown. Yet he felt that the minotaur could be trusted where his word was concerned. The debate in Huma's mind raged on until he fell prey to weariness. Then it became a moot point.

The night passed without incident, as did the first hours of day. They ate what little rations Huma had left. A brief look in the goblins' bags had made the knight lose all desire for any food the creatures might have been carrying, and besides, the goblins' food might have been tampered with.

The day was bleak. A chill wind was picking up, and Huma was thankful that he wore good, strong padding beneath his armor. Kaz, however, seemed unbothered by the cool weather. His race was one of explorers and mariners, as well as warriors, and the lands of his birth could get exceptionally cold in the dark months. The barechested footsoldier did not even wear boots. Had Huma walked as far in his bare feet, they would have been scarred, bleeding, and mangled. The lands here had been baked hard and rough by the past. About midday, Huma noticed the riders in the distance.

The riders did not come in Huma and Kaz's direction, and soon the group was lost from sight. But Huma believed the Knights of Solamnia, and that meant odds were good that the column—or at least a portion of it—waited nearby.

Kaz, on the other hand, was not so confident about the identities of the riders. Here, so close to the front, they could be anyone.

"True, they appeared to be humans—or perhaps elves— but they may have been among those who serve Takhisis. You have never seen the Black Guard, the Warlord's elite troops. Nor the renegades for that matter."

The minotaur had used that puzzling word before. "Who are the renegades?" Huma asked.

"Sorcerers unschooled. Mad mages. All of them, somehow or another, have escaped the notice of the orders of magic. Not all are evil. It is said, though, that one with tremendous power has made a pact with the Dark Queen herself, and that she is so desperate for victory now that she has shunned her own Black Robes."

Magic. Huma knew more about it than most of his comrades. He had grown up with it. His best—his only—friend had turned to sorcery. From the first, Magius had told Huma that some day he would be a great and powerful sorcerer, even as Huma leaned toward the knighthood that his mother had claimed was his birthright.

Thinking of Magius made Huma think too much of his early years, times that, while cherished in some ways, had left him bitter and unsure. He had not seen Magius in years, not since the day his friend had completed his studies and entered the tower for some sort of test 13

that would decide his fate. On that very same day, Huma had made a decision of his own and had set out to confront the Knights of Solamnia and petition for a place among them. Huma shook away the thoughts.

They continued walking. Kaz continually scanned the horizon, but he seemed a stranger to the terrain. At one point, he turned and asked, "Are all of the human lands like this?"

"You've never seen any of them?"

"Only the worst areas. Where else would the ogres put us but in the worst positions?

In our own way, we are more expendable to them than the goblins. They trust neither of our races, but they know they can control the goblins."

Huma nodded his understanding. 'There are still lands untouched by the war, but they grow fewer each year. Where my home was, is now a wasteland akin to this." With that came a rush of bitter memories. He forced himself to concentrate on the path ahead. The past was behind him.

The minotaur's head snapped forward. "We have company of some sort." The knight squinted. More than three dozen figures, all human, headed in their general direction. Survivors of some village, he realized. Lost survivors, evidently, with two brokendown wagons hauled by animals half-dead and led by men who looked no better. There were women, too, and even a couple of children. As they drew closer, he suddenly realized that most of them were gazing at his companion. What he could read in those gazes, he did not care for at all.

"We must be careful, Kaz."

"Against this pathetic rabble? You needn't bother. I can take these all by myself." Kaz started to reach for the ax strapped to his back, but Huma caught his arm.

"No!" he hissed. 'That's murder!"

The usually quick-reacting warrior hesitated. The mind of a minotaur worked much differently from that of a man. Kaz saw a threat; there were more than enough men to take him down if he failed to react. His world did not accept compromise. One triumphed or died. Huma stood dumbfounded; he did not want to fight Kaz, but he could not very well allow the minotaur to go tearing into the refugees.

Though Kaz lowered his hand, the damage was already done. The villagers saw only a monster who had threatened them. They already had seen their homes destroyed, and friends and relatives killed. Frustration at their helplessness had built higher and higher, with no outlet. Now, a lone minotaur who represented all that was evil, all their suffering, stood in their path.

Several men and women shuffled forward, a ragged mob. They were pale and frightened, a suicidal fright. All they wanted was one chance to strike back before they died. Huma was appalled at the sight. The group moved like living dead. Farm tools, knives, rope, even various household items were clutched as weapons. Kaz stood his ground, but he gave Huma a quick glance.

"If they come a few steps closer, I will strike no matter what you say. I will not stand and die at their hands." The minotaur's eyes glared blood red. Before long, he would act. Huma jumped in front of the mob, sword raised in the air. "Stop! He means no harm!" It was a pathetic attempt, and the results were as he had feared. The murderous mob came to a halt, but only to decide what to do about the young knight barring their path.

"Step aside!" one grizzled elder yelled. A cloth was tied over one eye, and the red stain on it indicated a recent wound. His skin was cracked, and his sparse hair clung to his head. "We want him! He's got to pay for what he's done!"

"He's done nothing to you!"

14

A woman a little older than Huma, and apparently once pretty, spat at him. "He's one of them! What does it matter whether he was the one who killed my children! If he's not done it here, he's done it elsewhere!"

It would have been futile to try to explain. They would not have listened to Huma, and, even if they did, it would not excuse the horrors they had suffered. Kaz was their only focus.

In desperation, Huma brandished his sword. There was some murmuring and a few less hardy souls stepped back, but the apparent betrayal by a Knight of Solamnia against his own race was more than some could stand. The mob moved forward again, but this time it was obvious that Huma was also their target.

Behind him, he could hear his massive companion pulling out the ax. "Have no fear, Huma. We will crush them."

There was anticipation in those words, even more than the first time Huma had noticed it.

Not even the sight of an angered minotaur clutching a huge battle ax in one great hand was enough to deter villagers. Thin, bony arms, from which hung the rags of clothes, rose. Some were empty-handed, some were willing to strike with whatever was in them. Huma stepped back.

Would he really kill these people to protect one who had been an enemy only a few days before? No knight would do so. Huma knew that. Yet he could not leave Kaz to them.

"Kaz, you'd better run!"

"They'll kill you now, Huma. Kill you for aiding me. Better we stand and fight." That was the last thing Huma desired, but there appeared to be no other choice. Either he moved aside and betrayed the minotaur or he stood and betrayed those he had sworn to defend. The sword wavered.

A strong wind rushed up from behind him.

The mob froze and all eyes stared upward. Behind him, Huma heard Kaz whirl and curse.

"Dragon!"

A cloud of dust kicked up, obscuring Huma's vision as he turned. He could hear the flapping of great wings as the dragon evidently prepared to land. In his mind, he saw one of the deadly black dragons or perhaps a huge red one, come to strike them all down. His sword would be less than useless.

Even before the dust had settled, Kaz was charging. Dragon of darkness or light, it mattered little to him. He had no future, whichever the case. He only hoped to do some damage before the leviathan crushed him. The minotaur shouted a battle cry as he ran, and the ax whirled about his head. Huma got his first glance of the dragon as Kaz struck. The knight raised a hand and shouted, although he knew it was much too late already.

"No!"

The might of a minotaur was truly impressive. It was said that an ax in a minotaur's hands could split boulders in two. Had Kaz struck, it was quite possible that he might have conquered. Instead, he suddenly froze in midswing and his momentum, great as it was, threw him headfirst to the ground beneath the dragon's great maw.

The dragon glanced only briefly at the fallen berserker and then looked up to study the human. Huma stared back. As a knight, he was accustomed to the comings and goings of the Dragons of Light. They served as guardians and messengers, but he had never seen one this close.

It was tall and sleek. The entire body was silver, save the two eyes that glowed like sunshine. He knew instinctively that the dragon was female, although he would have been hard-pressed to explain his reasoning. The jaws were longer than his arm and the teeth were 15

so long that the dragon easily could have bitten off Huma's head with one snap. The snout was long and tapered.

The dragon's voice, contrary to the beast's appearance, was deep but melodious. "A Knight of Solamnia. What do you do out here? You are far from your comrades. Are you seeking this garbage here? Rest assured, the minotaur will go nowhere. Not while the power of my will holds him."

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." 16

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?"

17

"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, and 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

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 oncemighty 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.

18

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." 19

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.

20

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 bullheaded 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.

Huma could think of only one thing to do. He shouted out his plan to the silver dragon. The oncoming warriors looked up in astonishment, and their orderly riding became haphazard as they momentarily forgot all else at sight of the magnificent denizen of the air. The silver dragon came down behind Kaz and was able to grab the minotaur by his shoulders. Kaz let out a startled cry and dropped his ax as the great talons applied pressure to both shoulders and hauled him off the ground. The knights tugged hard on the reins, desperately trying to halt their steeds while cheering for what they thought was the end of a marauding minotaur.

Kaz continued a stream of curses that would have made the worst brigand blanch, but he was powerless in the grip of the silver dragon. When they were some distance away, the silver dragon dropped the minotaur gently to the ground and then landed nearby. Huma leaped off her back and immediately confronted Kaz. If not for the minotaur's oath to serve him, Huma suspected he would have been slaughtered then and there. Fire glowed in the minotaur's deep-set eyes, and he snorted continuously with anger.

"No fighting!" Huma ordered.

'They will kill me! At least let me fight to the death, not stand there like some ineffectual gully dwarf!"

Very quietly and with a cold anger that surprised him, Huma repeated himself. "I said no fighting."

The minotaur exhaled sharply and seemed to slump. He stared at Huma. "As you wish. I will put my faith in you who have saved my life twice." That again! Huma let out an exasperated breath and turned as the reorganized patrol rode hesitantly up to the odd trio. The patrol leader, the only one seemingly unaffected by the sight of the great dragon, called a halt and then leaned forward to study the young knight.

"It seems Bennett is not rid of you after all, Huma." Belated recognition dawned on Huma. "Rennard!"

21

Rennard raised his visor. Some of the other knights shifted uncomfortably. Rennard's face was deathly pale, and when he spoke it was almost as if his features did not move. He might have been a handsome man, but that handsomeness had been ruined by near-death in his youth, from plague. His face was gaunt and lined, and some of his detractors liked to joke that Rennard had, in fact, died of the disease and just never realized it. Such colorful comments never were spoken in his presence, though. Few knights were his match. Huma was pleased to see Rennard. The older knight had taken Huma under his wing from the first, when he came to Vingaard to present his petition for entry into the knighthood. Rennard had supported him when others had urged that he be rejected—a boy who could only claim his father was a knight and whose mother could give no evidence to support him. The knights had gotten over their awe of the dragon by this time, and now all eyed Kaz. There was a great amount of muttering, much of it concerning what so strange a being as a minotaur was doing here. Rennard beckoned to one of the other riders. "Bind the minotaur. I'm sure that Lord Oswal will be most interested in him and what he is doing this far from the action."

Kaz stepped back, fists raised. 'Try! The first who lays a hand on me will never do so again!"

One of the knights drew a sword. "Insolent beast! You won't live long enough!"

"No!" Huma stepped up to Rennard. "He's no enemy. He was running from the ogres. I found him a prisoner of goblins and rescued him. He killed an ogre in order to save human lives!"

Several of the men made snide comments on the gullibility of the young knight, and Huma knew his face had glared crimson.

Kaz snorted. The slur on Huma's honor was as much a slur on his own, since he owed his life to the human. "This is the honor of the Knights of Solamnia? This is how they treat one of their own? Perhaps I was mistaken to believe the knighthood might be as honorable as my own race!"

The knight who had drawn his sword began urging his horse forward. "I'll have your head, minotaur!"

"You will do nothing of the sort, Knight Conrad." The angered knight tried to face Rennard down, but, as had happened countless times before, it was the pale knight who was victorious. No one could face the ice-blue eyes.

"In truth, there is nothing any of you could say against Huma's ability to judge," continued Rennard. "And you know it. Act like knights, not petty Ergothians or high, mighty elves."

The other warriors quieted, although it was clear they were not pleased with being scolded like children. Rennard did not care, Huma knew. Rennard was concerned only with Rennard.

To Huma, he said, "The minotaur is placed in your custody, Huma. I know more about their kind than these others apparently do. If he will pledge to come among us in peace, that will be all the assurance I need."

Huma looked at Kaz, who stared at the patrol in general and at the gaunt knight in particular. After some consideration, the minotaur finally agreed. "I pledge to you that I will come in peace and that I will accept Huma's judgment in all matters." The last was a criticism of the knights' lack of faith in one of their own. The knights shifted uneasily. They did not like the idea of so powerful a prisoner riding loose among them. The silver dragon looked on with an expression of mild amusement. Rennard's face was devoid of reaction, but Huma felt he was amused by the remark. The patrol leader jabbed a thumb behind him. "We have a few extra horses, which we recovered about a mile from here. One of them is tall and strong enough to carry the minotaur, 22

I believe. When you are satisfied, I want the two of you up front. We have much to discuss, and you. Knight Huma, must have a rather interesting report." The other knights made room as Huma and Kaz stepped into their midst. There were five extra horses—four war-horses and one drafthorse that apparently had been abandoned by its owner. The drafthorse and two of the warhorses proved to be unfit for riding and had been taken along mainly for the meat on their bones. The tallest of the horses, and the only one capable of supporting the massive form of the minotaur, was skittish, but not so much that Kaz could not control him. Huma found a greyish silver steed and took an immediately liking to it. When they were mounted, they rejoined Rennard.

Huma scanned the desolation. "What happened here?"

The lack of emotion only made Rennard's words the more frightening. "What usually happens, Huma? Mages fight their own private wars and tear up the lands, leaving nothing but rock and craters for those bound to the earth. Dragons burn or freeze or tear up the remaining fertile, green regions. By the time the armies clash, there is little if anything worth fighting for."

Mages were a sore subject with Rennard. No one knew why. Huma had never mentioned Magius to him for fear of alienating him, and losing one of Huma's rare champions.

"Did we lose?"

"Stalemate. The fighting just moved north, although we were sent to assure that their northerly retreat was no feint. We were just about to turn back when we saw you." The silver dragon, who had stayed patiently silent all this time, finally interjected.

"You did not see the dragonriders, then?"

Rennard's head snapped up and the other knights stiffened. "Dragonriders, did you say?"

"Six of them. All clad in black and all riding red dragons, save the leader, who rode a huge black dragon. They seemed to be searching until they noticed us. I tried to buy some time, but your fellow knight refused to leave me. He insisted on joining in the battle." With most of the faces hidden by visors, Huma could not properly gauge the reactions of his comrades. Some few seemed to indicate approval with slight nods, while one was heard to mutter something about unnecessary foolhardiness. Rennard, meanwhile, seemed preoccupied.

"A huge black, you say?"

“The largest. Young, though. The rider chose to fight us one to one. We did, and then a strange thing occurred. Huma wounded him severely and the black was forced to retreat from the battle. Rather than seeking revenge, the others joined the black to seek help for their crippled leader. They would have slaughtered us had they all come at once. I still do not understand."

Rennard's face remained typically blank. How much this disturbed him was impossible to say. When he spoke next, it was as if the tale of the attack had already slipped his mind. "I can only thank you for the service you have given one of our own. Will you be joining us? I am unfamiliar with the healing of dragon wounds, but if the powers of a cleric of Mishakal will help, there are a few with the main force." The great beast flexed her wings—which unnerved more than one knight and many of the horses—and declined his offer. "My own talents will suffice. I merely need rest. I will rejoin my kin. You might possibly see me afterward." The last comment was directed more at Huma than Rennard.

"It has been fascinating to know you even this brief time, Knight Huma," the dragon continued. "Good tidings to you. May Paladine watch over you." Without further ado, the silver dragon lifted herself high into the air. Huma and the others were forced to look away as the dust rose. When it had settled at last, the astonishing 23

creature was already far away. The group watched her vanish into the clouds, still awed by her presence. Rennard turned and took stock of those under his command— including Huma and Kaz—and turned his horse. He gave no command, and none was expected. The others simply followed, the two newcomers riding just behind the patrol leader. It was not until they were well on their way that Rennard motioned the two to ride beside him. He continued to watch the path ahead as he spoke. "These riders. Have you ever seen or heard of them before, Huma?"

"Should I have?"

"Perhaps. Minotaur—"

"My name is Kaz." He appeared tired of being addressed as if he were not quite there.

"Kaz, then. Surely, you must know them7"

"They are the Black Guard. One of many of their names. They serve the renegade mage Galan Dracos and the Queen's warlord, Crynus."

"What of the warlord himself?"

Kaz shrugged. "He is a giant, although whether an ogre or human or something else, only a special few seem to know. He is a master strategist who is willing to take chances, even with himself. His favorite mount—mount . . ." The minotaur stopped speaking, and his eyes widened.

A thin, deadly smile spread across Rennard's face, a frightening sight on that deathlike visage. Rennard turned to Huma. "What I believe he was going to add was that the favored mount of Crynus is a huge black dragon called Chair. Both man and beast are obsessive risktakers and one-to-one combat is something they relish greatly."

"And ... and I fought against him." The realization shook Huma. He had faced Crynus himself and lived.

Then, he suddenly thought, so had the warlord. He had been badly wounded, true, but Huma was sure he lived— and somehow Huma knew that the warlord would seek him out. To regain face. To regain honor. To more than balance the score.

To kill him.

"I understand the warlord takes his battles very personally," Rennard added, almost casually. He suddenly urged his horse to a quicker pace and the others followed suit as quickly as they were able. Even then, they did not move fast enough to suit Huma, who suddenly watched the sky nervously.

CHAPTER 5

If the devastation had looked terrible from above, a close view proved it to be even worse than that. Now, Huma could see with what thoroughness death had swept through this region. Kyre, a once-teeming city near the border with Ergoth, was no more. The fields were scorched. The dead lay scattered like broken toys. Most of the buildings were mere shells, if that much. As the patrol swept around the city's east walls—or what was left of them—the stench of grisly decay rose. Huma prayed he would not lose control, and it gave him no satisfaction that several of the other knights looked sick. Rennard rode on in seeming indifference.

By the end of the day, their horses and their armor were covered with mud. Realizing that they would not reach the main force for hours and knowing of the treacherous paths ahead, Rennard called for a halt at a dry location in the vicinity, along hard-packed earth that had once served as a country road. Behind them, they could make out curls of smoke rising from Kyre. The fires had long gone out, but the smoke refused to die, as if a reminder of the knighthood's failure.

24

The night passed without incident. Kaz, true to his oath, attempted to stand guard over the young knight all night long, until both Rennard and Huma insisted that the exhausted minotaur take his turn sleeping.

They continued on at first light, Huma and Kaz again riding beside the patrol leader. Huma attempted to draw Rennard into conversation, but the other knight was as taciturn as ever. He would speak when he deemed it necessary, not otherwise. By noon, they neared the outer fringe of the southern flank. The battle had become nothing more than one great series of skirmishes, as each side tested for weaknesses. The patrol had been fortunate. Had they arrived at another time of day, they might have ridden directly into such a battle.

Some of the knights gave a ragged cheer at the sight of the riders, mistaking them for reinforcements. Morale appeared low, and when the knights recognized Rennard and Huma, the cheers died on their lips.

The camp of the southern flank lay southeast of the ruins of the city. Rennard pulled his mount to a stop. Before the patrol lay a great tent surrounded by Knights of the Sword. The pale knight did not dismount. Instead he summoned the captain of the guard. At the sight of Rennard, the knight in question blanched and quickly saluted. The deathly face stared down at him. "Who is in charge here?"

"Lord Killian. You will not find him here, though. He has gone out among the men in an attempt to boost spirits." The guard sounded as if he had very little faith in the attempt. Rennard nodded. "Perhaps you might assist us, then. Where will we find Lord Oswal's command headquarters? When our patrol set out, it was located near here." Under Rennard's cold gaze, the guard informed them that command had moved another full day's journey, this time to the northeast. The ever sardonic Kaz muttered something about chasing one's own tail, but a stern look from Huma quieted him. The group was on the move again within seconds.

The lands to the northeast proved to be in much fairer shape. The first living trees came into sight only an hour after the knights had resumed riding. As the minutes passed, more and more trees dotted the landscape. They were short and stubby, for the most part, but they were trees! The mood of the party lightened a little.

Not once during their trek did they lose sight of the two vast armies maneuvering for position among the hills and trees. To the north lay the mountain ranges that marked the boundaries between Solamnia and old Ergoth. The ranges included several heaven-shattering peaks, home to a large colony of fearsome ogres. Those who dared travel through the mountain regions risked their lives and limbs.

Huma's mind wandered as the ride dragged on. What would Lord Oswal say when Huma confronted him? There had always been bad blood between the High Warrior and the Grand Master, and Lord Trake had been none too pleased with his brother's decision to back young Huma. Such a decision could, in the long run, prove disastrous for Lord Oswal. In his position, he stood to lose much influence and power if Huma failed as a knight. The knighthood, for all its vaunted good, was a political organization. Not that this was Huma's true concern. Rather, he wondered what would become of the army if someone other than the High Warrior commanded it. Lord Oswal was the knighthood's most brilliant general. Rennard called out and pointed to the west. All eyes turned. The already overcast skies were becoming pitch black in the space of moments. The watchers saw the darkness advance like a plague of locusts in a field of grain, and they knew what they viewed—sorcery of the vilest kind. The Queen's minions were once more at work in their attempt to shatter the lines of defense.

Rennard slowed, looked at the others from behind his visor. He stared at Huma and Kaz. "Will the minotaur fight for us if you ask him, Huma?" 25

Kaz snorted loudly. "Ask me yourself, ghoul!"

The pale knight ignored the jibe as he might ignore the wind in his face. "Will you fight for us?"

Huma felt Rennard's eyes burn into his. "The decision is yours, Kaz." The bovine face broke out into a savage, toothy grin. "Then I will fight, and gladly, as it will give me a chance to stretch my muscles. Besides, I was outcast from my kind the moment I chose to smite the ogre and run. They would kill me the moment they captured me. With you, I still have a chance to prove that my honor is not dead."

'Then let us add our strength to our brethren." With those words, Rennard spurred his horse. Someone shouted a battle cry. Huma gritted his teeth, hoping that someone would take his grimace as raw determination and not an attempt to quell some of the feelings tearing his body apart.

The creeping darkness came forth to greet them.

* * *

They might as well have been fighting at midnight without a moon. There were screams from the wounded and dying and lusty cries from warriors of both sides. Murky, huge shapes soared through the air. Sometimes they struck at the figures on the ground, but rarely with full strength. The dragonfear had not yet been unleashed. There was too much chaos on the ground; the dragons might very well consume their own allies. Brilliant flashes of pure power revealed some of the carnage wrought on the field. Mages of white and red contested with the black. Concern for sage limits held the Red and White Robes from victory. Carelessness prevented the Black Robes from the same. Still, there was some effect; the vast inkiness that had come so swiftly now halted its deadly progress and even reversed a little. The Black Robes could not maintain the attacks against their colleagues, and the strength of the dark cloud, for more than a short time. The sky suddenly was filled with dragons, more than any person possibly could have imagined. They had been gathered, slowly and quietly, just for this moment. As the darkness retreated, they boiled out of the cloud cover. There were far more than those who fought alongside the knights. Red, black, green, blue—the sky was filled with colors of death. Although outnumbered, the dragons of light rose to face them. They were not enough. The Dragonqueen's children quickly began to penetrate the ranks of the knights. Their ultimate goal lay beyond. They were flooding the hilly regions with their numbers, protecting the ogres and other landbound allies who even now flowed forth in greater numbers from within the hills themselves. Already beset by far too many foes, the sorely beleaguered knights looked to the party of newcomers for respite.

Swords high and lances straight, Rennard's patrol regrouped into charge formation. The dragons racing above them did not faze them. The line would hold. Huma was among those without a lance, but he knew that his sword would find an opponent soon enough. Eager to break the stalemate, the ogres already were pushing forward. The first wave had chosen to strike even as Huma and his companions had reached the fighting. The hilly ground slowed the warhorses. Huma saw one man go down as his horse lost its footing, and several more stumbled. Then they were striking at the fore of the ogre assault.

Metal flashed all about him, and everyone seemed to be screaming at full pitch. Huma desperately fought off each weapon hurtled at him and struck down several of the ogres while barely realizing it. An ogre face peered into his; it was hairy and savage with long sharp teeth like the minotaur's, and a broad, flat visage with red-rimmed eyes. The ogre's breath was fetid. Huma kicked the attacker away.

Laughter, oddly appropriate because of its ferocity, assailed Huma's ears. Among the combatants, his ax swinging to and fro, the mammoth Kaz was an avenging force of chaos 26

and death. Each swing took its count. Bloodlust glittered in the hulking creature's eyes and then Kaz was lost from sight as more ogres sought the young knight's life. An ax nicked Huma's leg. The only thing that saved him from losing a limb was that his strike had been first and true. The creature had been dead even as it retaliated. Shock, though, caused Huma to briefly lose control. He nearly dropped his sword and would have been cut down then and there if not for Rennard. The tall knight was cutting through the enemy at a methodical rate. The ogres attempted to flee this killing machine, but Rennard sought them out. Huma stared. At that moment, there seemed little difference between knight and minotaur.

Even so, the charge was insufficient, and it looked as if the knights would be routed. Then more huge forms joined the battle—this time from the Solamnic side. Reinforcements had arrived. The ecstasy was brief. Another ogre hurled itself at Huma. As abruptly as it had been created, the stygian blackness vanished. Resistance from the Queen's magic-users lessened. The knights pushed forward with renewed hope. Huma saw the ground erupt, and he shivered inwardly as countless enemy warriors were thrown high into the air, only to come crashing down seconds later.

"Huma!"

The voice was Rennard's, and it seemed to be warning him. Huma turned toward the voice as shadow resurged abruptly. Someone grappled with him. Huma succeeded in maneuvering his blade between them and thrust it through his adversary's throat. Huma turned his horse in the murk, seeking out his companions by hearing alone. It proved his undoing, for something heavy flew through the night and struck him soundly on the back of his helm.

He crumpled forward and slipped from his steed.

* * *

Huma had not known death would be so beautiful or kind. She reached forward and mopped his brow, then lifted his head slightly so as to allow him to drink a little water. The water cleared his head slightly, and he knew that he was not dead. The face above him was not death, but that of a young, beautiful woman with white—no, silver hair. The hair fascinated him so much that he attempted to reach out and touch it. To his surprise, the agony that this simple motion produced was enough to whirl him back into unconsciousness.

"Are you ever planning to wake up?"

The gruff but concerned voice broke through the haze in Huma's mind. His eyes fluttered open, then shut tightly against the light.

"A little light shouldn't kill you, not after ogres and dragons failed to." Huma dared to try again, more slowly this time. A tiny amount of light filtered through his eyelashes.

He opened his eyes a little further, and forms began to take shape around him. Chief among those was the ugly, inhuman face of a minotaur.

"Kaz?" His voice frightened him; it was little more than a croak.

"A good guess."

Huma stared at his surroundings. He was in a tent used by the knights for their wounded. Most of the other cots were empty, and the few that were not contained figures deep in sleep—or perhaps deeper than sleep. He shuddered. It brought the pain back.

"What happened to me?"

The bestial face broke into a near-human grin, and Kaz let out a deep chuckle. "What didn't? First, you nearly looked right into the flat of an ax—don't worry, it only creased one side of your head. You slipped and fell and nearly got trampled to death. The good news is that you were unconscious all of the time. It's a wonder you didn't break any bones, friend Huma. You certainly are bruised enough."

27

"Everything hurts."

"It should. Tell me, are you usually this careless?" Huma smiled, but the smile, like everything else, proved to be painful.

"He is awake?"

He turned his head quickly toward the melodious voice, forgetting the pain, and gazed on the vision from his dreams. The silverish hair swept around her head. She wore a gown akin to that worn by healers of Mishakal, save that no medallion graced her smooth, ivorycolored neck. The gown did not hide her feminine attributes, and Huma forced himself to look away before embarrassment ruined all.

"Awake, alive, and in less pain than he thought, apparently." The minotaur rose. "I shall leave you in the hands of this healer, Huma. While you have been resting, I have been put to work identifying what I can of my former masters' battleplans."

"They allow you freedom of the camp?" It was an astonishing gesture on the knighthood's part, if true.

Kaz snorted in contempt. "Only as long as I am accompanied by two armed guards. They deigned to allow me to visit you privately."

"You wrong us, Kaz."

The man-beast shook his fearsome head. "No, I may wrong you and a few others, but I do not wrong the knighthood."

Kaz stalked off without another word. Huma watched him leave. The inflammatory words had taken their toll on him. Did the knighthood deserve such scorn? It could not be.

"You have interesting companions."

Huma turned his attention back to the woman. "What?" She smiled, and there seemed to be only perfection in that smile. Her lips were full and red, and above them, perfectly positioned, was a pert nose and two almond-shaped eyes. The eyes were like sunlight in color, a direct contrast to her glistening mane. Overall, she did not look quite human, and Huma suspected she drew much of her beauty from elven ancestors.

"Are you quite through?" she asked in apparent amusement. He realized that he had been staring at her in abject fascination. His face reddened, and Huma began to study the ceiling.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to annoy you, milady," he said, reddening more deeply as he stammered slightly.

The smile broadened and became—impossibly—more perfect. "I never said I was annoyed." She took a moist cloth from a bowl near him and began to mop his head, "I am also no 'milady.' Gwyneth will do nicely. It is my name, after all." He dared to smile back to her. "My name is Huma."

She nodded. "Yes, I know. Both the minotaur and knight who brought you in used your name several times. I'd never seen a minotaur before this one."

"Kaz is a friend." Huma decided to leave it at that. He lacked the energy to explain further. A thought occurred to him. "You said a knight. Do you know which one?"

"I could not forget." A shudder ran through Gwyneth. "He was much like a dead man in form and voice. I felt, though, a certain sadness within him." Huma had never heard Rennard described quite like that, but he knew that somehow the pale knight had delivered him from the field of death.

"Are you better?"

The pain seemed less now. "Yes. Do I have you to thank for this miracle?" She blushed. "No, I am only assisting the healers."

Huma attempted to rise and discovered he was still too weak for such a maneuver. He grimaced in pain. Gwyneth eyed him as one might eye a bad child. 28

"Do not try that again."

"I do not think I could. Did not one of the clerics heal me?"

"There are only a very few of them in camp. You will have to accept what little aid they could give you. Even healers have their limits." Although she still smiled, Gwyneth's tone indicated that she thought the clerics overtaxed.

"Where are we?"

"In part of the westernmost woods of Solamnia. You were unconscious for a day's ride. We are about that far from the front."

"We won?" Huma could not believe that the lines had held.

"No one won. It was the same as always. If not for your group, the ogres might have broken through. Fortunately, they have failed again." She paused, deep in thought, and then resumed in a new vein. "Enough of this war talk. Do you feel like eating something? You've not had food for the last two days."

Huma agreed readily to some nourishment. He was dismayed, though, when Gwyneth began stirring a chalk-colored paste. She looked up, saw his expression, and smiled pleasantly. The spoon came out of the bowl. Gwyneth leaned down to feed some to Huma. He glared at the substance.

"It is not as bad as it looks, Huma. Taste some." Feeling like a child, he gingerly opened his mouth. It was true, he discovered; the paste tasted better than he'd imagined. He forced himself to continue eating, more because he did not want to look foolish in her eyes than because of any desire for such food. Huma was quite pleased when the last of the stuff was gone.

Gwyneth also seemed pleased as she put the bowl away. "I'm sorry to leave you, but I do have other tasks. I'll look in on you from time to time, I promise that." He reached out a hand to her. 'Thank you again." She hesitated, and Huma dropped the hand out of embarrassment. They were saved any further awkwardness by Rennard's appearance at the tent opening, Gwyneth gathered her things and whisked out of the tent. Huma's eyes watched her leave, then focused on the knight.

“The minotaur said you were awake and recuperating. I was pleased to hear that." The flat level of Rennard's voice made it sound as if he were reading off a supply list, but Huma believed his words. Like Gwyneth, he knew that there was something behind Rennard's perpetual mask of indifference.

Rennard's visor was up. Huma had no trouble now staring into the face that so many turned away from. Rennard's presence here was important. Few other knights cared enough about Huma to visit him.

Rennard kneeled next to him. "Keep your guard up at all times, Huma. It is your one failing."

'That and being struck on the head."

The thin lips pursed into a slight smile for only a moment. "Yes. You must put a stop to that as well. It could prove detrimental."

Had he not know better, Huma would have taken the statement as serious. "What goes on? Gwyneth—?"

"The young woman?" Huma reddened.

"Yes—she said that we were back at a stalemate once more." Rennard sighed and reached up to remove his helmet. The act revealed frost-colored hair plastered to his head. Rennard was one of the few knights who chose not to sport the long, thick mustaches but rather to go clean-shaven; he was also one of the few who kept his hair cut short well above his collar. No one questioned these decisions; Rennard was Rennard.

"For the moment, that appears to be where things are. Bennett claims this is a sign that victory is ours. He repeats over and over that the big push by Crynus has crumbled. No one 29

has seen or heard of Crynus since your brief battle with him. Bennett has even gone so far as to praise you in his own fashion."

"Praise me?"

"I quote: Thanks in part to that one's astounding luck, the warlord Crynus may be dead or at least incapacitated.' "

Huma turned away. Bennett was right, though. He had been lucky. A true knight would have made better use of the opportunity and assured himself of the warlord's destruction.

"I know what you're thinking, Huma. Stop it. You are every part the knight that Bennett and his lapdogs are. More so. You've not lost sight of the true world." Rennard lapsed into an uneasy silence as Huma turned back to him.

"How long before they release me?"

"When you're ready, no sooner. There'll be more than enough waiting for you when you're fit."

"Lord Oswal—does he have anything to say?" Huma felt a tremor of fear. The elder knight was like the father Huma had never known.

Rennard stood up and replaced the helmet on his head. He nodded. "The High Warrior wishes you the best and speediest of recoveries. He says he still has the utmost faith in your abilities."

Which was the High Warrior's way of stating how proud he still was of Huma. It was a rare boost for the young knight's confidence.

"Rest well, Huma. I will attempt to see you when next I'm free." Rennard departed, leaving Huma to his own thoughts. He wondered whether he would ever truly be a knight such as Bennett, Lord Oswal, or Rennard. He thought of the evil warlord Crynus and wondered if that dark figure would bother to seek personal vengeance on an insignificant person such as Huma.

Something padded softly by the tent where Huma lay. Not a horse, more like a hound. A slight stench wafted to his nostrils. He heard something scrape against the wall, as if to test its strength. The light of the gray day allowed Huma only the vaguest glimpse of something. A cleric of Mishakal entered the tent to check on the conditions of the wounded. The form on the other side of the wall scurried away, nearly silent despite its sudden movements. The odor quickly dissipated.

"Cleric?"

The mere presence of the elderly cleric soothed Huma. The cleric was short and slightly rounded. There could have been no more than two dozen hairs on his entire head.

"I am Broderin, May I be of assistance to you?"

Huma thought carefully before speaking. "Are — are there any wolves near the camp?

Wolves or large dogs?"

Broderin stiffened as if he expected some great beast to come lunging through the tent flaps. Then he regained his composure. "Wolves? Dogs? There may be a few of the latter, but not anywhere near here. As for wolves . . ." The cleric chuckled nervously. "A wolf among the ranks of Paladine's knights? I think not. There are no wolves save those on the other side of the field, my son. Regrettably, most of them are of the intelligent kind. Why do you ask?"

"I thought I saw one."

This sent the old man into another fit of anxiety. Though this voice was more or less steady, his eyes darted hither and yon, as if seeing wolves everywhere. "You must be mistaken, my son, or perhaps you are suffering delusions due to your wounds. Yes, that must be it."

"Are you positive?" It had seemed very real.

30

"I will have someone take a look around. Perhaps a stray hound escaped from somewhere. It is always possible." The cleric turned to one of the other wounded, indicating that the conversation was at an end as far as he was concerned. Huma watched him momentarily and then closed his eyes.

His sleep was, thankfully, restful and uninterrupted save for one brief dream in which something pale stalked him through an endless forest. The stalker was always just out of sight and just behind him.

As with most dreams and nightmares, he did not remember it upon waking.

CHAPTER 6

Huma stepped outside the tent to view the camp for the first time. He did not know his exact location, but he could see that command had moved once again, nearer the border, apparently. This close to Ergoth, the land was dotted more regularly with trees—healthy ones. For reasons that could only be guessed at, the ogres had been more careful about avoiding the destruction of the landscape nearer the mountains. It could hardly have been due to the beauty of the land; as far as anyone knew, the ogres were not the most appreciative of races when it came to beauty. In some areas there was actual forest—tall, ageless trees that perhaps remembered quieter times, perhaps had even seen the first elves. Huma estimated that two to three hundred knights were encamped in the general area. The men stationed here were a mixture, consisting of the personal guard of Lord Oswal, wounded knights in various stages of recovery, a few outriders who were assisting the knighthood with their knowledge of the region, and even a few mages to add to the clerics. The mages and clerics remained as far apart as possible. Mages distrusted most clerics as religious zealots, while the clerics, albeit more tolerant, still did not trust the independent ways of the magic-users, who concentrated more on power than on belief in the gods. No one really trusted the mages. That was why they were not allowed to carry arms. That left them vulnerable in at least one way.

"How are you feeling today?"

Huma's face lit up briefly, but he quickly masked it with an expression of brave seriousness. Gwyneth, a bucket in one hand, came over to him. Despite his best attempts, Huma could not help smiling.

"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. 31

"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 32

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 himself, 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 33

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. . . .

34

"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 35

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.

It was a hollow triumph. "Obvious. For such effort, I can think of only one you would protect—but why would Magius be out here?"

"I didn't—" Huma could think of nothing to say. How did Rennard even know about his childhood friend?

"You are a fool, Huma. A brave, competent knight, but you have too much humanity in you, too much trust in others. A mage, especially. You cannot trust mages. They will always turn on you. They are treacherous."

36

Despite his respect for Rennard, Huma stiffened at this insult. "Magius is none of those things. We grew up together. He would not betray what he believed in." Rennard shook his head sadly. "You will not understand until it is too late." Then, as if all had been said that could be said, Rennard dropped the subject. "Come. We'd best return to camp. I think this is something Lord Oswal should hear about." The pale warrior returned the sword to Huma. Without waiting to see if Huma followed, Rennard began walking. Huma hurried after him, wondering what the other knight would report and what Huma himself would say, knowing all too well that one of those who listened would already know he had lied.

What would the Oath and Measure demand?

CHAPTER 7

Once there had been an instructor, Garig, who was determined that the young squire Huma would fail the preparations for knighthood. Gang was a beast of a man who more resembled a bear in face and form. Some wondered that he was a knight at all, brutal as he could be. As a matter of fact, Garig intended to wear Huma down inside of a month. Huma had stayed, though. Stayed, learned, and excelled, though Garig frightened him immensely. Lord Oswal, the High Warrior, had encouraged him. Like Rennard, Lord Oswal had seen something in Huma that he was determined to cultivate, despite the boy's dubious bloodline. At last, the squire stood up to the overwhelming instructor and defeated him soundly in what could only loosely be called a mock

combat. That was a victory as much over fear as over Garig.

Now, Huma was afraid again as he stepped into the presence of the man who had helped him overcome that earlier hurdle.

The High Warrior was dressed and fully awake. Huma marveled—as did many others—that the elder knight never seemed to rest. The commander of the military expedition sat on a plain wooden stool that contrasted sharply with his elaborate uniform. His helmet lay on the table beside him, and more than a dozen charts lay scattered on the same table. Huma felt as if the helmet, too, were inspecting him, somehow.

Only two other knights were in the room. One was a shorter, round man whose very appearance belied the strength and intelligence within. Very little hair graced his head, save for a small goatee and a few wisps in the back. Arak Hawkeye was not a man of much humor. His latter name had come from his precision as a bowman. Even the nomadic tribes of the southern regions knew of Hawkeye. He could outride and outshoot any of them. It was his personal goal to teach a band of knights to ride and shoot much in the manner of the plainsmen. He wore crests representing the Order of the Crown, of which he was ranking commander for this campaign.

Between them, and only barely noticing the young knight, stood Bennett, son of the Grand Master, nephew of the High Warrior, and the representative of the Order of the Sword. Bennett's presence here unnerved Huma the most. The personification of knighthood, Bennett could recite every line of every volume of the bylaws put down by Vinas Solamnus so long ago. He lived by them, which was why Huma had been able to remain in the order so far. Despite his influence, Bennett would do nothing that went strictly against the Oath or the Measure. When charges concerning Huma's parentage had failed to oust the new knight, Bennett did not turn to more unsavory methods, as some, even in the knighthood, would have done. Instead, the Grand Master's son treated him as a necessary evil, to be ignored whenever possible. Influential as Bennett was, Huma found it difficult to make any friends as time went on.

37

Bennett was much like his father and his uncle in appearance, though he was definitely more like the former. Those who had known Lord Trake in his younger days swore that there was no difference between sire and offspring. Both had the same hawkish features, the look of a bird of prey. The House of Baxtrey was of the oldest royal blood. The same features could be found on many of the nobles of the Empire of Ergoth. As Bennett turned away, his mind supposedly on the business at hand, Huma's eyes briefly met his. The glance was cold.

"You may leave or stay as is your desire, Rennard."

Rennard stiffened. "I will stay, if it pleases the High Warrior." It did not please Bennett, that was obvious. Trake's son hated Rennard almost as much as he hated Huma, but for different reasons. Only one person other than Lord Oswal could defeat the Grand Master's offspring in mock combat. Soundly, too. For someone like Bennett, who prided himself on perfection, it was almost intolerable. These two rivals stared openly at one another now, Rennard with as much regard as he would give a blade of grass. Lord Oswal turned to Huma. "Normally, Lord Arak would take your report, but seeing as we are dealing with situations that change from one minute to the next, I would like us all to hear it immediately. Both Arak and Bennett have agreed to this," Bennett glanced at his uncle and then away again. "If you would begin, then?"

"Milord." Huma cleared the lump from his throat. After the first few words, his uneasiness fell away and he poured out the details of the attack in crisp, precise sentences. The three commanders listened carefully. Huma did not omit the presence of Magius, though he did leave out most of their conversation.

When he was done, he stood there silently, his eyes staring straight ahead at nothing, his body at full attention. The Lord Knights turned to one another and discussed some of the points. They whispered, preventing Huma from knowing what had caught their attention. Lord Hawkeye stepped away from the other two and turned to Rennard. "Knight Rennard, have you anything to add?"

"Only that I have men searching the woods for any sign of infestation and that I appointed a new captain of the guard in Huma's absence."

The urge to react was nearly overwhelming, but Huma's training enabled him to resist. Rennard had stood by him.

"I see," said Lord Oswal. "That will be all, then. Knight Huma, it is my recommendation to Lord Arak Hawkeye that you be allowed a second chance. It is obvious that you were pitted against magic of exceptional magnitude and that your leaving the camp without giving warning was due to this."

Bennett's stare was deathly, but Huma was too relieved to care.

"Thank you, milord—milords."

The High Warrior waved a hand. "You two are dismissed." Lord Hawkeye added, "Knights Huma and Rennard, you are both relieved from duty for the night. Get some rest."

Rennard merely nodded as if he had known all along how the meeting would turn out. They left as the three commanders turned to one another. Bennett's voice was rising in anger. He apparently felt that the Measure demanded far greater punishment for what was to him an obvious act of deadly thoughtlessness. Both Huma and Rennard, however, were out of hearing range before any reply was made.

"That went well," Rennard added casually.

Huma could not look at him. 'Thank you, Rennard."

"For what? That? Someone must save you from yourself. Besides, I would not give Bennett the satisfaction. Not even for the Oath. Or the Measure." His words left Huma hanging. Rennard lived by a code of his own, it seemed. They walked in silence the rest of the way.

38

A great bronze tower loomed before Huma. It hung on the edge of nothingness, and that nothingness was known as the Abyss. The tower, though metal, was crumbling from great age.

Huma felt himself drawn unwillingly toward the single gate of that tower. Things that should have been dead offered to lead the way. Lepers gave lipless smiles. A plague victim, once a woman, reached out to take his hand. With a convulsion of horror, he saw that it was his mother. Huma cringed, and she vanished.

The mold-enshrouded gate descended for him. From within, a hand beckoned him forward. A tall figure awaited, dressed in tattered clothes with a rusting crown upon— its head? There was no face beneath that crown, only two red orbs in a sea of infinity. Behind him, the gate closed silently.

Huma awoke sweating. The camp had not risen yet, although the knights would be stirring soon. Huma was thankful for that. After the dream, he had no great desire to return to his slumbers.

Such vivid dreams had never plagued him before. There were those who said such dreams held significance, although what this one meant was beyond Huma. Not that he did not recognize the bronze tower and the evil that dwelled within it. It was a vivid page from his education, when a cleric of Paladine had introduced him to the gods who would throw down light. The name by which this particular evil went was Morgion, and he thrived on decay of the world.

If ever a god had profited by this endless war, it was Morgion. Decay was everywhere, even in those cities untouched by the war itself—and if not physical decay, moral decay, as in the jaded city of the Ergothian emperor himself, a man who, it was rumored, was so pampered he did not even know there was a war on.

If decay was rampant, disease had become a natural way of life. Huma hugged himself at the memory of his mother. Her death by plague had changed everything. Alone, he heard the calling of his father, the man he had never known but who controlled his very existence. The price, though ...

Shaking off the dream, he rose and readied himself for the day ahead. Rennard had promised to speak with Lord Hawkeye about increased command for Huma. The incident concerning Magius was forgotten as far as the gaunt knight was concerned. There were more important things to attend to.

A muffled groan made him look down. Kaz, waking from the noise, blinked and revealed two blurry eyes. The expression was so much like that of a farm animal awakening that Huma could not suppress a brief smile.

The minotaur settled back down to sleep. As of yet, Kaz knew nothing of the night's events. Satisfied that they had finally drained him of all information possible, the commanding knights had finally allowed the minotaur a decent night's sleep. Yawning, Huma gazed out beyond the fringe of the camp to where the first glint of dawn was revealing itself between the trees.

His eyes locked in gaze with the sightless orbs of what could only be the creature Magius had called a dreadwolf.

In some past time, it might have been a true wolf. The general body structure conformed, but it was as if some perverse necromancer had raised it from the dead and only partially succeeded. Not one hair graced its bone-white body. There did not even seem to be skin. It was like the ghost of some animal killed and skinned by a hunter. Although it was a good twenty feet away, Huma could smell the odor of the night before. The stench of decay. Of death.

39

It knew he was there. Despite the obvious sightlessness of its eyes, it sensed him, knew him. Behind the dead eyes was a cold, evil intelligence that seemed to mock the knight. Without taking his eyes from it, Huma leaned toward the minotaur. "Kaz." He felt Kaz stiffen. A husky whisper came back to him. "Huma?"

"Roll over. Look beyond me."

The minotaur did so. The eyes opened—barely—and at first Kaz did not see it, as blurry-eyed with sleep as he was. Only when he dared to open them farther did Kaz notice the horrid creature. The stench filled the minotaur's nose.

"By my ancestors," Kaz hissed. "A dreadwolf, Huma!"

"I know." The minotaur knew of them, then. What was the wolf creature doing here?

the knight wondered. Magius had said they would leave when they discovered him gone. Why was the foul creature still here, and daring the dawn as well? How had it made its way past the sentries?

The dreadwolf continued to stare at Huma with its dead eyes. It was here for him, there was no doubt about it. It was, he realized, a messenger of some sort.

"I must go closer."

Kaz rose quickly, ax in hand. The creature, though, scarcely glanced at Huma's unusual companion. It seemed to grow more eager as Huma took a couple of tentative steps toward it.

"Huma, no!" Kaz was speaking loudly now. That no sentry came running disturbed Huma. Was the beast's master so powerful that he could lock an entire camp into slumber?

Huma shrugged off the minotaur's hand and moved even closer to the dreadwolf. The tail of the abomination wagged back and forth in a lazy motion. It opened its jaws and Huma now could make out the rotting, yellow teeth still sharp enough to tear the flesh from his arm. The dreadwolf licked its jaws, and the mouth settled into what Huma feared was a knowing grin.

When the knight had dared to step within ten feet of it, the creature opened its maw again. What came out startled Huma so much, he was almost ready to turn and run.

"Huuuuumaaaaa . . ."

Behind him, Kaz swore an oath. Huma steadied himself. His sword was out, but he did not know how much good it would do against an unliving thing like this.

"Huma." His name came more clearly now, and it was followed by dark laughter.

"Who are you? What do you want?" The dreadwolf seemed to contemplate him before it spoke again. When it did, the amusement was more than obvious. "You gave us a merry chase, Knight of Solamnia. Cost us a valuable servant, too. We think you be as great a danger as your treacherous friend, Magius."

"Magius." Huma showed no reaction to the foul creature. Did they have Magius?

"We know where he is now. He will learn what it is to betray Galan Dracos." Galan Dracos. Leader of the renegades, Servant of the Dark Queen. Huma knew the name and knew the evil behind it.

As if in contempt, the dreadwolf sat on its haunches. Huma wondered briefly whether it had any reasoning of its own or whether it was merely a puppet of a controlling force.

"Crynus was very taken with you after that brief clash. He was very near to capturing your friend when you happened along. No surprise when we realized who you were. Your good friend Magius used you as a decoy, young knight. Did you realize that?" Heavy footsteps beside Huma told him that Kaz had moved closer. The dreadwolf turned its sightless eyes toward the minotaur briefly and then ignored him, resuming its speech.

"It was the desire of Crynus to pluck you from the camp personally and remove you to his citadel, there to battle with you at his leisure."

40

Huma's throat felt dry. "I was lucky."

"Luck is a skill. Were you to live much longer, you might learn that." Both knight and minotaur tensed. Each expected the forest to overflow suddenly with the ghoulish forms of countless dreadwolves. Nothing materialized, and the single creature mocked them again with its nearly human smile.

"You have nothing to fear from me. No, if anything, you should fear yourself, Knight of the Crown. At the moment, you are your own worst enemy." With another laugh, the dreadwolf sprang to its feet. Kaz swung at it, but the creature merely spun around and sprinted off into the woods. Both knew there was no following.

"What was that all about?" the minotaur wondered.

"He came to mock me, it seems." Huma sheathed his sword. "But why would Crynus even bother with someone like me?"

"Perhaps he is more interested in this friend of yours. Perhaps this friend is not so close to capture, and this is merely some ploy. Who is this Magius?" Huma briefly related the details of the night's incident.

The minotaur's face darkened as he realized all this had happened while he slept. As Huma finished, some of the other knights began to stir. "What should I do?" Kaz shook his head. "I know what I might do, but your ways are not mine, Knight of Solamnia. I suggest you try the walking corpse. He seems to be your ally." Kaz was right, Huma decided. Maybe Rennard could explain the words of Galan Dracos.

Suddenly a great wind picked up and several huge shapes seemed to materialize out of the sky itself. All around the camp, knights were looking up into the sky at a sight that could only inspire them. Majestic, winged creatures circled the camp several times; gold, silver, bronze, copper, the dragons were magnificent in their glory. A few brass dragons flew alongside, but only a few. They much preferred the heat of the deserts. Huma estimated some thirty to forty of the creatures, quite a massive force, especially if organized. That was the one advantage they had over their dark cousins; the dragons of Takhisis were apt to fight among themselves, sometimes even in battle. The dragons of light were always quick to take advantage of such incidents.

With the coming of the dragons, Huma momentarily forgot his fears. The presence of dragons always filled him with an almost childlike delight. He began to hurry to where they were landing, ignoring the shouts of Kaz, who had no desire to confront dragons so soon again.

Huma was not the only one running. Even the veterans came rushing, for a visit by the dragons often meant news of great importance.

When Huma arrived at the place of landing, he saw that the three commanders of the army were already engaged in conversation with an immense dragon of gold. Despite its massiveness, the dragon spoke in quiet, almost scholarly tones. The creature's news must have proved troubling, though, for Huma noted the dark look on Lord Oswal's face. Huma spotted Rennard. The knight seemed even more pale than usual and looked surprised when Huma called to him.

"What news, Rennard?"

"The eastern forces are in retreat."

The tonelessness of Rennard's voice caused Huma to miss the magnitude of the gaunt knight's statement. When realization did hit, Huma could only stand and gape before finally drawing enough breath to spit out the same words he had just heard. He repeated them once more, then shook his head.

"It's not possible! The knighthood has never suffered such a defeat!"

"It has now."

41

They were forced to wait while the commanders and the gold dragon continued their discussion. Kaz stepped up next to Huma, the look on the minotaur's face indicating that he had heard the news. The young knight wondered how the mammoth easterner felt. Still, the minotaur could not return to the enemy after killing one of his commanders. As if reading his thoughts, Kaz looked down. "I have not regretted my act, Huma. I chose to strike down the ogre, and I would do so again. Besides, there is no true home for me among my people now. To them, I would be a coward and a weakling for showing pity to the helpless."

Most of the other dragons had landed by this time. Huma noticed one silver dragon that, if possible, seemed familiar. He was about to discard that as a ridiculous notion when the dragon turned in his direction and nodded. It was the same creature that had carried them to safety, the same dragon that had confronted the deadly black beast upon which had sat the warlord, Crynus, himself.

A horn sounded from the direction of the front, a single mournful wail that died a slow death, as if he who blew the horn had lost all hope. As well he might have. The blackness once more was spreading across the heavens. Within minutes, it would overwhelm the first lines of the knights. Only the gods knew what would happen within its range.

Bennett and Arak Hawkeye cursed loudly, while Lord Oswal now truly looked like an old man. His shoulders sagged, and he was forced to turn away from the dragon. The leviathan said nothing, but sympathy was evident.

"Milord!" Bennett was now shouting. A wind was picking up rather quickly. Some of the dragons beat their wings nervously, sensing, perhaps, the sinister powers summoned to conjure this new threat.

Lord Oswal seemed to recover at the sound of his nephew's voice. Wasting no more time, he ordered the men to prepare for battle and lie in the nearest hollow. The camp would be left at the mercies of the wind. Now was not a time for tidiness. Now was life or death. Lowering his visor, Rennard shouted, "It was a ploy, our defeat of that other darkness. I'll wager that the mages will find themselves up against even greater odds when they attempt to push it back, and I'll wager they lose."

The wind forcing his breath back into his lungs, Huma followed the other knight's example and lowered his visor. He gasped for air. Kaz, beside him, was forced to tolerate everything. Huma knew that the minotaurs sailed the roughest seas with relative ease, but still, Kaz had his hands over his face and he had fallen to one knee. Even so, the wind continued to grow. Loose equipment was beginning to blow away. The horses snorted wildly as a tent was torn from its stakes and tossed among them. Huma rushed over and pulled it free of the beasts. Unable to maintain his hold on the tent, Huma watched it go whirling away into the woods. The entire area became a deathtrap of a hundred assorted forms. The campfires were blown high and wild by the wind, and some tents burst into flames. Kaz was forced to cover his eyes lest he be blinded by the dust rising from the earth.

"Sargas forgive me! It's the king of all hurricanes, but on land!" Indeed, the minotaur's words seemed to ring true. No tornado or storm that Huma had ever witnessed contained the power to cause such destruction. Trees were bending perilously close to the ground. A little more pressure and they would be torn from the earth and flung skyward, and there appeared to be no letup in the raging darkness. It was only a matter of time.

Huma battled to maintain some sort of balance. How much more terrible was it out there at the front? Only the single horn blast had given them any warning. Crynus had planned well. Galan Dracos had planned well.

42

Suddenly, calm reigned. The wind died to near-nothing and refuse rained upon the ground. Kaz stood, and Huma opened his visor to get a better view.

"The spellcasters! They've done it." They were there, far to his left. There were twelve in all, six of the Red Robes, six of the White. Even from his position, Huma could see the strain they were under. This was not the storm of the other day. That had been only a pale illusion, perhaps a test, or even a trick. Whatever the case, these mages were now dealing with a power far, far stronger than they had anticipated. One of the Red Robes fell, exhausted.

A breeze developed.

A horseman cut off Huma's view. Huma looked up to see Bennett, fully in charge of himself and the situation, despite all the confusion. At the moment, with his hawkish, regal face and his intricately decorated armor, he might have been one of those who had ridden with Vinas Solamnus.

Bennett scanned the area, then turned his gaze to the younger knight. "Get the horses. If we don't release them, they'll be killed when the magic-users fall." As he spoke, another Red Robe wavered and then stumbled. The breeze increased to a squall.

"We're pulling back!" The wind forced Bennett to yell. We must not rout, though! If we do, nothing stands between the Queen's jackals and Vingaard Keep! Nothing!" The ten remaining mages could no longer keep a unified effort. Several collapsed, and the few left standing were insufficient for the task. What kind of power were they up against?

The sudden earth-shaking gale nearly threw Huma and Kaz to the ground. Bennett was only barely able to keep his horse under control. The warhorse was used to blood and steel, not wind so strong that it nearly swept the rider from the animal's back. The steed's natural instincts were to run for cover.

Bennett shouted something unintelligible and then raced off. Huma, remembering his earlier instructions, half-crawled toward where the horses screamed their protests. Kaz followed. His balance restored, he now moved more easily than the knight, thanks to his bulk. Releasing the warhorses proved to be difficult. They had been worked up to a frenzy and regarded any moving object as a threat. The nearest kicked at Huma, and others snapped at his arm. Despite the danger, Huma had to get closer if he was to release them. As he drew near, iron-shod hooves came down on him, and only because a heavy form bowled him over did he escape crippling punishment. One hoof struck his right arm, a glancing blow but still sufficient to numb it.

Huma struggled up and undid the reins. He had hoped to calm a few of the animals and possibly ride one to safety, but they were too far gone. He was half-dragged for a couple of yards before common sense got the better of him and he released his grip.

"Kaz!" Huma did not see the minotaur and then suddenly remembered how the latter had blocked the attack by the maddened warhorse. Huma turned and saw the motionless form. Kaz had deflected the blows with his own body. The knight remembered the minotaur's oath and let out an uncharacteristic curse. He would not have the minotaur's death on his hands.

"Kaz!" He kneeled next to his savior and turned him over. To his relief, the minotaur opened his eyes.

"You are uninjured?" the bull-headed creature asked.

"I should ask you that!" Huma almost laughed. If Kaz had the strength to be concerned about him, then the minotaur had the strength to live. He helped the huge creature to his feet.

"Can you run?"

The minotaur leaned forward. "Give me a moment. I fear the horse has pushed all the air from my lungs."

43

While Kaz recovered, Huma looked around. The camp was nearly deserted. A few knights struggled with equipment off to the south, and Huma thought he saw riders to the east. The tent where the clerics of Mishakal had treated the wounded was no longer there. There were no bodies that Huma could see; the mages had bought them enough time to escape, at least. He could only hope that Gwyneth had escaped safely, as well. Meanwhile, where were the dragons?

Huma had not seen them since the eruption of the storm. The vast wall of chilling darkness was nearly upon the camp now, bringing along the visibility of a moonless night. Huma did not want to know what lurked within that darkness, but he forced himself to look up at it. When he did, he finally noticed the dragons of light. They were organized into what Huma recognized as one of their fighting formations, a sort of double "V."

Against the coming fury, they looked pitifully tiny.

The wind was now joined by pouring rain. Kaz snorted angrily and commented on the smell of wet humans. He was now well enough to move, slowly but steadily. The torrent made movement tricky. Better slow and steady than risk having one or both of them lose their balance.

It might as well have been night. No trace of sunlight remained. Ahead of him, Huma could make out dim shapes. At their present rate, even those would disappear as the power of the Dragonqueen overwhelmed the light.

Overwhelmed the light . . .

Had the knights lost at last? Huma shuddered at the thought of a world with only darkness. A world that the Queen ruled.

Now, the only light was the bolts of fire that burst through the skies. They did not seem part of the storm and Huma glanced upward, wondering perhaps if it was the work of the dragons. Had they met the enemy at last? He wished—a mad wish, an afterthought—that he could help them in some way.

"Huma!" The hiss startled him until he realized it was Kaz. The minotaur's voice was hoarse. He was weaker with injury than he had led the knight to believe. "Huma! A light ahead!"

It was true. Only a dim glow, like one of the insects of night, but a glow nonetheless. They had already started toward it when Huma recalled the dark sorcerer who had sought to ensnare him. Still, this light did not demand his obedience as that one had. Rather, it seemed to offer badly needed help. To be on the safe side, Huma drew his sword. They stumbled through mud, nearly falling once. Slipping and sliding, they continued toward the light.

For a time, the glow seemed no closer than before. The distance gradually lessened, though, and Huma soon realized that the light was also coming toward them. He tightened his grip on the sword. At his side, Kaz was tensed.

"I've been looking for you."

Before them, seeming to glow himself and quite untouched by the torrential winds and rain, stood Magius.

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, 44

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.

45

"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?"

46

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."

47

"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.

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"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.

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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.

CHAPTER 9

The path twisted and turned with amazing regularity. Had not Magius reassured them more than once, Huma would have thought that they were wandering in a circle. He did not like the grove, which, even by day, was gloomy and full of shadow. Without the light from the staff, they surely would have strayed from the path. Huma ducked away from a thorny vine crisscrossing the trail. After the first sharp sting from one of the countless barbs, he had closed his visor. Still, each thorn scraped at the metal on his body, and in irritation, Huma slashed stalk after stalk. Yet whenever he chanced to turn back, there would be no trace of his handiwork.

Ahead of him, Kaz cursed and brought his battle ax down upon a prickly bush. The injured minotaur chopped at the plant until only shreds remained. Almost immediately he walked face first into a hanging vine. The sharp blades of the ax came out and cut that vine to ribbons, too.

The abrupt drop at the next turn caught all of them by surprise. The shifting of the soil as the elemental made its way fooled Magius. His staff came down and the mage, expecting some sort of resistance, toppled forward. Kaz, next, stumbled forward onto the spellcaster. Huma twisted to avoid adding to the ungainly pile, lost his footing in a different place, and fell off the path.

Huma came to an abrupt halt, thanks to the huge shell of a once-mighty tree. He rubbed the back of his head, which had absorbed part of the shock, and looked up—at nothing.

There was no path. The trees of the grove dotted the area. Bushes, tall and many years old, filled most of the spaces between the trees. Shadows filled the rest. Deep, dark shadows. Huma closed his eyes and opened them again, this time assuring that his gaze was not directed at the shadows. A chill ran through him. What he had seen—he froze. What had he seen? It defied any description he could have given it. He only knew that it was somewhere out there, waiting for him to carelessly turn toward it.

"Magius! Kaz!" The names echoed back to him. A quiet, mocking laugh seemed to come from everywhere.

"Huuuumaaa."

At the sound of the voice, Huma reached for his broadsword—only to find his weapon gone. He remembered then that he had been carrying the sword in his hand. Yet he could see no sign of the blade when he searched the ground in the dim light. Something tall and misshapen broke away from the other shadows and briefly passed through his vision. His nerves tightened as the mocker laughed once more. Huma pulled out a dagger, hoping that iron would make an impression.

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His view vanished as something literally popped into existence right before him. He thrust hard with the dagger and encountered—mud and dirt. His hand sank into the mire, and he lost his grip on the small blade.

With wide eyes, he stared up into the ice-blue, crystalline eyes of the elemental. Huma fought off a desire to hug the strange creature. The elemental stared down at him and spoke in the same gravel-filled voice it had used when responding to Magius.

"Follow." A single, wonderful word to the knight, at that moment. Suddenly, blessedly, his sword was back in his hand.

The two crystals were sinking swiftly into the depths of the mound. At first, the living mound did not move and the knight thought the creature must be frozen in place. Huma sheathed his sword and leaned against the backside of the elemental's earthen shell. He decided to dig the elemental out of its quandary. As his hands touched the mound, though, the earth beneath his fingers began to heat up incredibly and Huma quickly pulled them away. Two gleaming objects emerged from the mound.

Its crystalline eyes in place, the elemental repeated its previous message. "Follow." Huma jumped out of the way as the thing churned forward. Rather than turn as a man might, the elemental merely shifted its face to whichever direction it wished to travel. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and Huma, still staring in wonder, completely ignored the earthen servant's command again. The mound did not repeat itself. It abruptly shambled up a small rise and promptly vanished.

Huma's first instinct was to unsheath his sword. Then, he gritted his teeth and, with four long strides, he found himself standing before a loudly cursing minotaur and an anxious mage.

"Huma!" Kaz fairly crushed him in a bear—or rather, a bull—hug. Magius smiled with relief. "When you fell off the path, your bovine companion was all for rushing after you. It was all I could do to explain to him that having two of you lost out there would be quite foolish."

The minotaur dropped Huma and spun on the mage. "You wouldn't go after him!

Someone had to!"

"Someone did." Magius pushed back his aristocratic locks. "While I can make my way through the grove, I would much prefer to send the elemental, who has nothing to fear, than risk myself purely for the sake of appearances."

"You are a coward!"

"I'm practical." Magius turned to his old friend. "If the elemental had not been here or had failed to find you, I would have followed you, that I promise." Huma's acceptance of the mage's explanation was met with a derisive snort by Kaz. Magius ignored the latter and, after a quick tap of the staff on the elemental's present backside, the group was off again.

Though they did not encounter any more difficulties, Huma kept his eyes warily on the path at all times. Finally, they emerged into light. Brilliant light. It was as if the eternal cloudcover had finally given way to the golden rays of the sun. Even Kaz broke into a big, genuine smile. When Magius turned to speak to them, he, too, was grinning from ear to ear. He raised his staff high.

"Welcome to my home."

They stared out into a wild, golden field. It would have been quite easy to believe that somewhere within the field elves danced and played. Butterflies and small birds flew hither and yonder while the bright, ripe wheat waved lazily after them. Small, furred creatures hopped among the occasional trees that dotted the forest perimeter. If there were truly a paradise on all of Krynn, this seemed to be it.

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In the center of this wondrous field stood the citadel of Magius, a tower that, like the field surrounding it, might have been made of gold. A single gigantic wooden gate acted as a door. Windows dotted the top half of the tower, and there was even a small walking area up at the top. The tip gave the citadel the appearance of a spearhead, well-crafted and needle-sharp. The sides gleamed metallically, and Huma's one regret was that it briefly reminded him of the sinister bronze tower perched precariously on the edge of the infernal Abyss. Magius bowed and indicated they should go before him. The elemental had vanished, perhaps to patrol the outer limits of the grove once more.

"You are safe here, my friends. As safe as anywhere on all of Ansalon." The knight and the minotaur stepped out into the field like two children. Gone was anxiety concerning the war. Gone were the hatred, the fear. There was only the breathtaking beauty of the open land before them.

The mage watched them pass, the smile briefly vanishing from his face. As they walked, a strange thing seemed to happen. The citadel grew. With each step it grew taller and taller. By the time they reached its gate, Huma and Kaz were forced to stare up into what seemed the ceiling of the sky itself.

"How can the dragons not see something of such scale?" There was no suspicion in the words of Kaz this time, only wonder.

"Like this field," Magius replied. "Things are not always what they appear to be—or are seen to be. Someone created this place long before men ever set foot on Krynn. I have spent much time trying to discover their secrets, but the fragments hint at the handiwork of ogres. I cannot believe that ogres could ever build a place of such beauty. Perhaps, this was made as a garden paradise for the gods themselves. I think that would be more appropriate." Huma chose to spoil the serenity of the scene by coughing just then. The mage grimaced. "Forgive me. You must be tired and thirsty. We shall go inside and be refreshed. After that, we shall speak."

Magius raised his staff again and muttered a long string of seemingly nonsensical words. The staff, whose earlier glow had diminished, suddenly blazed with a new life. Both Huma and Kaz were forced to momentarily shield their eyes.

The gate opened, perhaps moved by some great, invisible hand. Magius was continually amazing Huma, although it might very well be that the castle, too, was a product of these ancients.

They passed through the gate and into a hallway which, while smaller than that of any noble's estate home, outshone most by pure extravagance. Sculptures of elves, animals, tall manlike beings, humans, and what could only be the gods themselves lined the walls. Like an oversized serpent, a single stairway curled its way up to the floors above. A gold and red tapestry displaying the constellations draped one side while another one depicted a mountain that virtually towered over the landscape. It was so real that it drew Huma's attention. At the back of his mind nagged the feeling that he knew this place from somewhere, although, in fact, Huma knew he had never seen the mountain before. He continued to stare at it until Magius's voice broke the tapestry's spell.

"Not all of it is original, but one cannot have everything. Be careful!" The last was aimed at Kaz, who was busily inspecting an ageless sculpture of an oddlooking dragon. It was long and narrow, almost like a snake with legs and wings. What little remained of the coloring indicated it had once been green and blue, intermingled, an odd hodgepodge of colors for any dragon.

'This sculpture was made by one of my people."