"Impossible. It must be elven. Look at it."

Kaz snorted. "Do you think we have no artisans? I recognize the telltale patterns in the clay, even if your 'well-versed' mind cannot make anything out of them." 52

"Why would anyone want to mold a dragon like that? I've never seen one so long and narrow. Did such exist?" Huma asked, turning to Magius.

The mage shrugged. "I have never uncovered evidence of such a beast. It is my belief that this is purely an artistic representation, the product of someone's imagination. Another reason why it cannot be the work of minotaurs, not to mention the fact that it is far too old."

"We were the first civilized race."

"Civilized or domesticated?"

Kaz moved swiftly, but the statuette froze in midair some three feet before Magius's face. The mage's look of contempt was matched only by the intense disappointment draped across Kaz's visage. "Make your next throw a good one, cow, because it will be your last. And next time use something a little less valuable."

With a wave of his free hand, Magius returned the dragon sculpture to its resting place. Kaz snorted continuously, and his eyes were crimson. Suddenly Huma stepped between them, brandishing his sword.

"Stop it!"

The outburst was so savage that both mage and minotaur stared at him as if he had lost his mind. Huma looked from one to another with what he hoped was a ferocious expression.

"Ansalon, perhaps all of Krynn, may be lying helpless beneath the Dragonqueen, and you two are acting like schoolchildren!"

Kaz was the only one of the two to look ashamed. Magius took the reprimand as he did all else. He merely shrugged and pretended as if the incident had never happened.

"There's much more to see, but I imagine you two might wish to get some rest. Am I correct?"

"On that point, at least," Kaz muttered.

Huma sheathed his sword, but his temper was still aroused. "What happens after that?

Can you contact your order? We cannot stay here forever. You came looking for us. Don't you have a plan?"

"Of course." The answer came quickly, but there was something in the spellcaster's eyes that Huma thought belied his response. Here, again, was a Magius with whom he was unfamiliar. Here was a Magius who held back secrets from the one person he should have been able to trust. How he had changed.

Or is it I who am changing? thought Huma. In the old days, he would have never truly questioned Magius or probed at his friend's answers. The knighthood had opened his eyes to the veiled half-truths that played so large a part in most people's lives. Deliberately, Huma said, "I should like to hear your plan."

"In good time. There are far too many matters here that I must attend to immediately. While I do so, you two may relax and perhaps enjoy some food." Magius tapped his staff on the ground. Huma felt a shiver cut through him. Then he saw the mist.

It fluttered about Magius as a pet bird might around its master. Huma could not feel any sort of breeze, nor was there any seeming source of the mist. It moved as if with a life of its own.

"Guests. Guide." Magius spoke the words, not to Huma or Kaz, but to the cloud—and it responded:

"Guesssstssss. Guiiiiiiidde." The mist's voice sounded like steam escaping from a doused campfire.

"Rooms for the night."

"Rooommmmss."

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Magius grimaced. "Air elementals are so slow." He waved his hand at the floating mist. "Now, if you please." To Huma, the spellcaster said, "When you are fed and rested, things will be clearer."

Kaz let out a deep "hmmmph," which Magius ignored. The air elemental, given the command to begin its duties, floated impatiently around the two "guests."

"Commme. Rooommmmmss. Guesssstsss."

Their host watched as they followed the mist creature up the spiral stairs. When they were out of earshot, Kaz leaned toward Huma, who had taken the lead, and whispered, 'This mage is your friend?"

"Yes." Huma found it difficult to answer with assurance.

"Pray that he still considers you in the same way. I think that this tower and its secrets would make for a very secure, very permanent prison."

The knight did not argue the statement, having already considered that possibility. If this were indeed a prison, it was one to which many a villain would have begged entry and incarceration. After becoming at least partially used to the misty servants, Kaz and Huma had no difficulty enjoying the meats and fruits, not to mention the wines, which would have been fit bill of fare at any royal court.

The rooms, too, were resplendent, albeit much too large for a normal-size person like Huma. Kaz, on the other hand, found the furnishings perfect for his bulk and pointed this out as more clues that the tower was some remnant of his own race. Huma knew that no one had ever recorded minotaurs this far west until the wars had begun, but he kept his doubts to himself.

They had been given separate rooms, something which Kaz had at first protested as an obvious ploy to divide and conquer.

"Had he desired to, Magius could have struck us both down any one of a hundred times," Huma countered. "You saw the way he handled you in the corridor."

"Luck. Let me take him on, one to one."

"And he will leave nothing but ashes. Magic is as much a part of him as breathing is to us."

The minotaur smashed one massive fist into the wall. To his satisfaction, it yielded quite nicely. "In my homeland—"

Huma stopped him before he could go any further. "This is Ergoth. These are human lands. Human ways."

"Are they? Have you forgotten the battle already?"

"I have not. I only think that you should trust me. I know Magius far better than you." Kaz quieted, but not before replying, "I hope you do. For both our sakes." It was those words that Huma contemplated as he sat against the bedboard. Despite the drain of energy from their walk through the grove, he had found himself unable to sleep. Kaz, on the other hand, might have been dead, save for the fact that his snores resounded through the walls and into Huma's room.

The candles, lit before he had entered, had melted to the point where many were of little or no use at all. The flickering made odd shadows around the room, and Huma eventually found his eyes returning to one particularly high and deep shadow in the far corner. It was so dark, he almost believed that, if he chose to, he could have walked right into it and through the wall.

"Huma."

A hand, open, thrust out from the shadow. It was followed by another. The knight edged away from that side of the bed and toward his sword, which hung next to the bed.

"Huma, I must speak to you."

"Magius?"

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"Who else?" Arms followed the hands, and then the rest of the mage appeared as well.

"Forgive me the dramatic entrance," Magius whispered, "but I wish to avoid speaking with the minotaur, who might be displeased with some of what I am about to say."

"And I won't be?" Huma was feeling irritable. The mage's tricks were beginning to wear even on his boyhood friend.

Their eyes met, and Magius quickly turned away. "You might be. But at least you also see reason. My powers need only slip once for that two-legged bull to do me in."

"I could not entirely fault him, Magius."

"I know." The spellcaster put his face in his hands. "How dearly I know." Huma stood up, walked over to his childhood friend, and rested a gentle hand on the other's shoulder. 'Tell me, and I will promise to listen with an open mind." Magius looked up, and they were briefly back in their early days, when neither had cared about anything more lofty than fun. The look vanished almost as soon as it appeared. The elegant Magius held out one hand. Instantly, the staff was there, awaiting his commands.

"You see before you a magic-user of great power—and even greater potential. I was not the first to say that. Fat, cheerful Belgardin said that the day he sponsored me." Belgardin. Huma remembered the old mage. He had been the first to see the power welling within the young Magius. Power such as he had never seen before. Belgardin was a high adept of the Red Robes, and this enabled him to realize the help the boy needed while still calculating the prestige that accompanied the training of a possible Master of the Order—

any order.

"He was right. You remember. I excelled at all things. I was the brightest candidate they had ever seen. I mastered spells even some established adepts had difficulty with. I was a prodigy." The hint of conceit in the voice of Magius was quite reasonable; everything he had said was true.

The mage's face fell serious. "You ordinary people hear of the Test and all the rumors about what goes on." Magius made a cutting motion with his free hand. 'The rumors pale in comparison to the truth."

The Test was the final proof of a mage's ability to cope with the power. It did not matter which of the orders he or she belonged to. All magic-users took the Test. Magius dropped the tip of his staff to the floor and leaned heavily upon it. "I cannot say what others have gone through, just that some did not survive. I went into the Test with every possible scenario plotted out in my mind. I thought they would send dark elves after me, force me to kill an elderly or ill person. Perhaps, I believed, they would have me stand at the edge of the Abyss and face the Queen herself. I knew some of it would be illusion, but much of it would be very real. Real enough to kill me."

Huma nodded understanding. Word naturally leaked out. Some of the rumors, it seemed, carried elements of truth.

The handsome face broke into a smile, one that seemed mad under the circumstances. Magius laughed lightly, although Huma could not guess what he found so funny. "They fooled me completely. Or perhaps even they do not truly know all that goes on during the Test. I suspect that sometimes the power itself takes a hand. Whatever the case, I was confronted with the one thing I found I could not accept.

"My death. My death in the future."

There was nothing Huma could say to that. He might deny that it was real, try to convince Magius that it had to be all illusion, but what could he say that he himself believed?

"Somehow, I succeeded in surviving. I think that madness was what waited for me if I failed. I fooled them by entering into another type of madness then. A madness created by the realization that what I saw would indeed come to pass. I left the tower, left the Test, knowing my fate and determined to do something about it.

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"And I found I could not. Not by the strict bylaws of the Orders. Despite their supposed freedom from restrictions, neither the Red nor the Black Robes offered anything that could assist me. They were still too limited, and I certainly was not cut out to wear the robes of white, as you well know."

Magius chuckled at the last, then sighed. The candles had burned down to nearly nothing.

"With a realization of the restrictions placed upon me by the Three Orders, I decided that I would be forced to step beyond the lines they had drawn in order to—if you'll pardon me for saying so—change the future."

Huma stepped back involuntarily. The wild spells, the outlandish clothing, so different from the austere robes of other mages. He shook his head, not believing that it were possible to do what Magius had done.

"Then and there," Magius was saying, his attention focused inward, "I turned from the formalized, stifling training of the Conclave and became a renegade."

CHAPTER 10

"Does it shock you so, Huma? I was young, unbridled. I probably would have left for other reasons. Disgust for the Test, perhaps, which I still find a barbaric way of trimming the dead leaves."

Huma slumped back on the bed. To one brought up under the strict beliefs of the knighthood, all magic-users were untrustworthy. A renegade was considered blacker than even the Black Robes, for he would meddle with spells even they would balk at using. Magius read the look and smiled ruefully. "A renegade is only what he makes of himself, Huma. There are very few, since it is hard to escape the notice of the Conclave, but some of those few are very good people. Not powerful enough, sometimes. Had they taken the Test, most of them would have perished. While they live, they do what little they can to help others. Of course, there is always the other side."

"Galan Dracos."

"Yes." Magius had gone pale. "Even the Queen's dark clerics fear him. She needs him, though."

The knight stiffened. "You know a lot."

"I—I heard much of him as I traveled. I thought he might be the one to aid me, to give me protection. He has no fear of the Three Orders."

There was motion in the next room. Magius stepped back into the shadows. "I do not think we can continue our discussion for now. Try to understand that everything I've done is for good reasons. We'll talk later."

Magius melted into the darkness. Leaping up, the knight put a hand into the shadowy corner. Only walls, as he suspected. Whatever portal Magius had opened had just been closed. With a snarl, Kaz burst into the room. "I heard him! Where is he?" Startled by the ferocity of the minotaur, Huma stepped back. "What is it, Kaz?"

"This is a trap, as I suspected! My ax is gone! My daggers are missing!"

"What are you talking about?" Huma reached for his own sword, which hung near the bed. Only—

The sheath hung as before, but it was empty now. Hurriedly, Huma went through his belongings. Like Kaz, he was missing all his weapons. They had disappeared even while the two old friends had talked.

Huma put a hand to his head. The room was becoming terribly hot. He felt flushed. Kaz was suddenly by his side, supporting him.

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"What has he done to you? Are you ill?"

"I'm fine." He waved his sympathetic companion away. "It's nothing." Huma had been a fool. He had believed that the past still counted, when now it was all too obvious that the mage had been lying. The inconsistencies, the overlengthy explanations, left more questions than they answered.

Huma reached for his armor. "We're leaving—somehow." Kaz helped him suit up.

The hallway was apparently unguarded, although the knight was sure that unseen servants watched their every move. He wondered how far Magius would allow them to go.

"I don't like this," Kaz muttered. He, far more than the human, distrusted the workings of any magic-user.

They reached the long, spiral staircase without incident— which only served to make them that much more cautious. Huma reached out and touched the bannister with one finger. When he felt nothing, he dared to grip it. He took a step downward. Another. A third. Kaz followed as closely behind as his huge bulk permitted. Their pace quickened unconsciously. On the sixth step down, Huma blinked. He was no longer on the step, but back at the top of the staircase. Five steps below, Kaz whirled about, searching for him. Before Huma could warn him, the burly easterner set one foot down on the sixth step. Huma had only a quick glimpse of Kaz before the latter vanished, to reappear beside him a moment later.

"More tricks," muttered Kaz.

They tried again, achieving the same result. Each time, the one who put a foot down on the step never noticed the shift. It was magic of the most complex and subtle nature. They were trapped in some loop. Huma quit first, realizing the folly. Kaz continued for some time after, hoping there might be a way out. In the end, though, the minotaur joined Huma in the corridor.

"What now?"

Huma dropped the pack he had been carrying and undid the empty sheath. "Nothing. We won't be going anywhere, it seems."

"We cannot stay here!" The red glare was returning to the giant's eyes.

"Have you any ideas? There are no windows, and the walls are solid. At least for us."

"We could climb down to the corridor."

Huma picked up the empty sheath and walked over to the stairway. He lifted the object over the rail and dropped it.

The sheath disappeared.

While Kaz looked on, Huma turned and pointed to the floor. The empty sheath lay behind them. "We wait. We have no choice." The minotaur's shoulders slumped in defeat. There came a time when sleep forced itself upon them, despite their attempts to stay alert. Thus it was that Huma dreamed. Dreamed of Gwyneth and a mountain. Dreamed of a silver dragon in flight. Dreamed of evil spellcasters and gods battling. They all mixed together so randomly that he was never really sure what the dream was about or how it even began. It ended abruptly, he knew, for it ended when the voice broke through his sleep.

"Wwaaaakkee."

It took Huma several moments to realize that the sibilant whisper was not part of his dreams. Rather, it was a misty servant with a summons.

"Maaassteerr. Wiiissshhheess. Sssspeeaakk."

Huma rose and Kaz, hearing the elemental, did likewise.

"Hhuuumaaaa. Ooonnnly."

"I will go with him whether your master likes it or not! Now lead on, or I'll inhale you!"

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Whether or not the air elemental actually understood the minotaur's words, it drifted toward the stairway. Huma followed, with Kaz close behind. The elemental led them downward. There was some hesitation on Huma's part when they neared the level that had repulsed them earlier. He took a single step. This time, much to his surprise, he found his progress unimpeded. The aerial servant hovered near him, as if impatient to move on. Huma continued down, slowly at first, then more quickly as it became obvious that Magius had set no traps.

A loud shout of anger caused him to quickly look up at the level above. While Huma's back had been turned, Kaz had attempted to follow the knight. Much to the minotaur's annoyance, the spell still held him in thrall.

Wordlessly, Huma turned and followed the servant down the twisting stairway and through corridors unseen the day before. These halls were much more like the grove, darker than it seemed possible, in some places. Now and then, things flitted in the flickering light of the few torches. Only when they passed these torches could Huma be sure that he was still following the servant.

"Maaassteerr."

Huma did not understand at first, for the room he entered was as dark and gloomy as all the corridors had been, and he could see no evidence that it was inhabited. Then he noted the sound of something moving.

A single word was uttered, and the room was lit by the staff of Magius. The sounds Huma had heard were those of the mage rising from a chair. As the other turned around, Huma's mouth opened in complete shock. To his eyes, Magius seemed nearly twice as old as he had appeared earlier. One would have never believed that the two men were of the same age.

"Huma." The magic-user's tone almost begged for friendship. All the anger that Huma had contained within him began to melt away as he studied the sudden deprivation of vitality.

"Magius, what—?"

"I know. I leave you with more questions and fears each time we meet. I'm afraid I can't change that even now, although I will attempt to clear up a few difficulties. First, I want you to see this."

The mage led him into an adjoining room, where Huma found himself facing the earth elemental that had led them through the grove. Something lay before the living mound, something unnervingly familiar.

Huma recognized it. "A dreadwolf."

It was bent at awkward angles, and Huma realized that one limb was torn away. Odder still, it was petrified. Reaching down, he verified the thought. It was like touching a rock. The sightless eyes still seemed to watch him. Huma turned to Magius for explanation.

"There were three more, but they perished in the grove. Somehow, battered and torn as it was, this one made it to the field, where he," Magius indicated the earth elemental, "finished it. The damage is done. Galan Dracos knows where I am and probably knows that you are here as well. I have no choice."

Huma listened, unsure what Magius was leading to.

"Come with me." They returned to the other room, and Magius walked over to a wall on which hung a high, gold-trimmed mirror. It was oval, decorated in elaborate scrollwork. Magius tapped the staff on the floor and said, "Show me."

"There. The peak in the center." A huge mountain loomed in the foreground. Recognition came swiftly. It was the same mountain so prominently displayed on one of the two great tapestries. "When I was tested in the tower, I saw that—the mountain. I remembered it well, for it was the final site conjured. I did not know it was real until I found this place, and the tapestry in the hall. When I saw it hanging on the wall, I knew there was more truth to the 58

scenes in my Test than even my instructors knew. This mountain means something to the war. It conceals something. It is the one puzzle I cannot fathom. I don't even know its exact location, but it is west of here—southwest possibly."

He turned to Huma and held out the knight's weapons, though his hand had been empty moments before. "The minotaur also has his weapons back. The elemental will lead you to the underground passages and to horses that I have kept for emergencies." The tower suddenly shook.

Magius whirled around and stared at the mirror. "Show me!" The mountain scene vanished, to be replaced by a visual of the citadel, surrounded. A huge, black dragon with a rider. Other dragons, red, nearby.

"Moons of Krynn!" Magius smiled bitterly. "Am I worthy of the attention of Crynus himself?"

"Crynus!"

The mage looked at Huma and the bitter smile deepened. "Oh, yes, you two have met. Had I the time, I would tell you much of importance concerning him and the Black Guardsmen. As it is ..." The tower shook again and the ceiling began to crumble.

"Arion!" In summons to the spellcaster's urgent call, the misty servant formed before them. 'Take them to the stables! Hurry!"

"Maaasssteerr."

"Magius, let me help."

"Help me?" The mage smiled. "I once stood at the side of Galan Dracos. I was second only to him among his gathering of mages. It will take more than dragons to stop me." A powerful gust of wind thrust Huma through the doorway even as he pondered how truthful Magius was being. Not just about his abilities, but his reasons. Would Huma ever know for sure?

"Huma!"

"Kaz!"

The minotaur came bursting down the dark corridor, heedless of any threats. True to his word, Magius had returned the minotaur's weapons, including the huge battle ax. The massive warrior's first words were quite predictable. "What madness has he brought upon us now?"

"Only the warlord, six dragons, and Paladine knows what else." More masonry crashed down.

Kaz raised the ax high over his head. "By my ancestors for thirty generations, I will not die crushed under rock!"

"Fooollss! Fooolooowww!"

'That thing—"

"—is our guide out of here! No more words!"

They hurried after the air elemental, which now seemed to possess startling speed. It was glowing slightly silver now, so there was no chance of losing it in the dark corridors. The stable proved to be more like a cave with ventilation. There were half a dozen horses, ranging in all sizes, but all well-muscled and sleek. While the two chose their mounts, the air elemental vanished.

"Where are we?" asked Kaz.

Huma leaped on his chosen horse, a tall, silver mare, and glanced toward the cave entrance. "West of the grove, I think. The hall tunneled underneath it."

"Good. One small difficulty out of the way." The minotaur climbed aboard his own animal, a beast at least as tall as himself.

Another jolt shook the cave. Huma freed the other animals; he would not leave the horses to die if the cave collapsed.

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"Yaaah!" The horses were swift, and for ten minutes Huma and Kaz rode without looking back.

Behind them, the two could hear the cries of the dragons as they tore at the defenses of the citadel and its master.

What use was there in fighting a battle that could not be won? Still, Huma knew that the next battle would be his.

They broke through a clearing, and Huma dared to look back then. "Riders!" There were at least eight of them, ebony-armored figures on coal-black steeds like creations of the Abyss. Black Guard. Huma's hand strayed to his sword to assure himself that it was still there.

Something else broke through after the riders. Pale, canine things with sightless red eyes. Six or seven, perhaps. Dreadwolves.

Suddenly, the earth before the dark riders burst up with tremendous fury. One rider succeeded in keeping his balance and two managed to evade the explosion, but the rest vanished momentarily behind the huge mound, which Huma recognized as the earth elemental. A point in the favor of Magius, thought Huma. The mage had sent one of his most trusted servants to assist his old friend.

The dreadwolves had enough warning to dodge the milling confusion, though one fell victim to a horse that lost its balance. The others continued the chase. A tree limb struck Huma in the arm, and he turned around just in time to avoid a low branch. Kaz rode a few yards to his right, his larger form causing him some grief. The horns on his head snagged branches with worrisome regularity. Kaz hung on grimly, though. Huma glanced back whenever terrain permitted him, but the same sight always greeted him. The dreadwolves, at least, moved with a constant pace and did not seem to tire. Only six of the ebony riders had regrouped and managed to keep pace.

"We can't..." A branch struck Kaz in the face as he tried to speak. "We can't keep on like this. The horses will perish."

Huma agreed. They were pushing the animals at a killing pace. Huma came to a difficult decision.

"Split up! Ride to the north!" He had to point to get his idea across. Kaz frowned but accepted. Huma indicated he would ride to the south. Lacking a plan of his own, the minotaur obeyed.

When Huma gave the signal, Kaz pulled his horse sharply to the right, nearly taking off his own right arm as the animal was forced to twist around a tree. Huma watched him vanish and then pulled tight on the reins of his own mount.

The animal was near to collapse. It slowed as quickly as possible, stumbling several times in the brush. Huma did not wait for it to come to a stop before leaping from the saddle. He landed feetfirst and scurried for the shelter of the trees.

The dreadwolves were fast closing, and Huma barely had time to ready himself. Among the items in the stable-cave, he had found a small, wooden shield, and this he had strapped to his free arm. The broadsword was out in one smooth, silent motion. He prayed that the dreadwolves would run after the horse first. It was the only way he would have a chance.

He was determined to stall them long enough for Kaz to flee. Huma knew it likely would cost him his life, but he could foresee no escape for either of them unless one remained behind. He could not ask that of even Kaz.

The first of the dreadwolves came running past. Single-minded to the point of obsession, the ghoulish creature followed after the abandoned horse, which had now realized its plight and was racing off again. It would not get far, and Huma was disgusted that he had to sacrifice any animal for this.

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Two more dreadwolves raced by. Another followed. There were at least two more. Huma steadied himself and tried to maintain his patience.

Another. Another. When no more appeared, Huma risked a peek around the tree trunk. It proved to be a mistake, for the first of the riders appeared at that point and he spotted Huma all too easily.

Huma had chosen this particular tree because of the massive root system that partially extended above-ground. It was a fortunate choice, for the rider, intent on being the first to claim the prize, forced his horse just too close. The left forehoof of the dark steed caught on one of the roots. With a sharp cry, the animal fell forward and the rider was thrown far into the air, finally landing in a contorted heap. Huma assured himself that the rider was dead, and he turned to face the others.

The rest of the riders materialized in a group. The gaps between the trees were so small that the riders were forced to slow down and navigate through the forest one at a time, breaking their loose formation. Huma gave a cry of challenge and charged. He caught the first of the Black Guard as the rider attempted to bring up an ax for a strike, only to find it had snagged in the branches of the tree. Huma made his attack count, and the man toppled off his mount.

Inspiration came then, and the knight leaped onto the abandoned horse. The animal fought him. Struck by a skull-crushing hoof, one opponent went down as Huma mastered the steed. Fending off the other attacker, Huma urged the animal forward, this time heading south. As he had hoped, the four riders followed.

Something lunged at him. A white blur. Only luck enabled him to catch it on his sword, although the dreadwolf did succeed in tearing apart some of the chain mail on his leg. The knight found himself riding with a still-squirming dreadwolf impaled on his sword. The creature's weight forced him to virtually drag it along in order to keep his sword. Huma's arm felt as if it were about to be wrenched off.

The horrific jaws snapped at him, and the sightless eyes rolled in the skull until the dreadwolf finally slid off the sword and tumbled behind Huma. Huma glanced back and saw with horror that the creature was rising as if unharmed. The dreadwolf turned its head just in time to see the front hooves of the first horse of the pursuers come down on it. The ghoulish creature was trampled without notice and destroyed. Both his own animal and those of his remaining pursuers were near their limits. Froth spewed from the horse's mouth. The steed began to stumble as it ran. The knight heard a crash behind him and dared a quick glance. One of the other horses had collapsed, causing another to spill.

Huma brought his mount to a halt, then turned it. The two guardsmen still riding charged him from two sides, their intent to cross him up. The rider to Huma's right swung a mean blow with his sword, and the rider to the left followed with another an eyeblink later. Huma's timing was perfect. He blocked the first with his shield and deflected the second with such accuracy that he provided himself with an opening. The tip of his blade caught the rider on the left between the breastplate and helmet. The rider collapsed backward and was dragged on by his unknowing horse.

Unwilling to fight one-to-one, the remaining rider turned back toward his two other comrades, who were extricating themselves from their injured horses. Huma struck wildly and missed a killing blow, but the Guardsman fell off his horse and did not rise from the ground. By now, the other dreadwolves had returned. Huma's horse wobbled and fell to its knees; the knight jumped off and away before the beast collapsed on him. He then stood, shield and sword in hand, and faced the five creatures and the two riders who had regrouped. A stark realization that he would die clouded his mind. When the first of the dreadwolves lunged for his throat, he met it with the overwhelming thrust of one whose sole remaining 61

goal is to take as many of the enemy with him as possible. Thus, he cut, chopped, and thrust almost blindly, seeing little clearly any more. Even the shield became a weapon as he brought it down on at least one white form, hard enough to crush a skull. Yellowed fangs dripping ichor flashed by his face. Steel threatened to divide his throat in two. Huma met each attack and then counterattacked.

He eventually realized that he was striking at air. The knowledge brought his senses back. He blinked the film from his eyes and stared at the tableau before him. The last two guardsmen were dead, their weapons scattered far away. Blood oozed on the ground. The five dreadwolves lay strewn in pieces around the area. Exhaustion took him suddenly. He went to his knees and, for a long time afterward, simply stared at what he had done.

CHAPTER 11

How long it was before he felt the pain, Huma could only guess. He had eventually wandered away from the terrible scene, as much to ease his growing distaste with himself as to escape from any other pursuers. Vaguely, he knew that there would be others, for, if nothing else, both Dracos and the warlord Crynus were determined to the point of fanaticism. And Huma calculated that Crynus, at least, would be interested in his whereabouts. The pain increased. Huma numbly stared down at the multiple wounds he had received from his opponents. His armor was battered and torn; the mail was almost useless. A part of his mind wondered when this damage had been done. He could remember nothing of the fight save the thrusting of his sword at whatever moved.

Huma found a stream and washed his wounds as best he could. The cool water soothed not only his body but his mind.

After finishing at the stream, he decided to follow its path. It ran southwest, more or less, and he recalled that Magius had recommended that route. That thought brought Kaz to mind, and the knight felt guilty that he had abandoned his one true friend. Was the minotaur safe somewhere?

A huge shape sent tree limbs swaying as it raised a tremendous wind. Huma instinctively flattened against a tree and stared upward. He caught a glimpse of a wide, leathery wing, but it was gone almost immediately and he could not even be sure of its color. Whatever type of dragon it was, it did not return.

The day passed before Huma even realized it. Hunger demanded his attention, and he burrowed through the saddle bag he had taken from one of the horses. The Black Guard, it seemed, had little in the way of personal effects. At the bottom, he found what he had been looking for— three days' worth of rations.

A moment later, he was spitting them out, despite his hunger. Another lesson about his adversaries—their taste in food, even the generally bland iron rations, was abysmal. Huma knew he would cause himself more damage than good by eating these things; in its present condition, his stomach would never be able to hold them.

Eventually, he was able to secure food in the form of birds' eggs and berries. It was not very filling, but it eased the hunger. His search for food told him something else as well; most of the bushes had been stripped of edible berries. Recently, too. It was too thorough to have been the work of animals. Besides, Huma had spotted no forest life other than birds. If he stayed too long in this area, he could starve. The stream, too, seemed depleted. For three days, he wandered along the stream. The face he saw staring back at him from the water on that third day made him smile in self-mockery. The reflected knight was unkempt, his mustache spreading in a hundred different directions, his armor dented or torn 62

and covered with blood and dirt. Self-consciously, he tried to wipe some of the grime from the symbol of the Order of the Crown. He saw his own face vanish and one like Bennett's appear. Trake's son was, of course, immaculate. The breastplate ever gleamed. His proud mustache was thick and neatly trimmed. He was a true knight.

Another face joined Bennett's. This one was no Knight of Solamnia, but a foreignarmored, heavily bearded bear of a face. It was sneering. Had he not seen it there and then, the bearlike man would never have believed that a man could move so swiftly. Somehow, the battleworn figure leaning over the stream produced a broadsword seemingly out of nowhere, and the hapless stranger barely managed to avoid the swing—and that because of the other's awkward angle more than anything else. Huma could not immediately identify the man who had attempted to sneak up on him. He was wearing a motley collection of armor, some of it ogre make, some of it bits and pieces of Solamnic armor. Huma would have let the man go, but now he wondered whether he faced a brigand, a man who might even steal from the dead.

His erstwhile opponent suddenly yelped, turned, and ran off at an astounding pace for one with such an ungainly form. Huma gave pursuit.

His exhaustion slowed him. As it was, Huma was just dosing on the man when the other scurried around a small hill. Huma followed suit . . .

. . . and immediately backtracked as more than a dozen horsemen and many, many more footsoldiers turned to stare in surprise at the two newcomers. A tall man with silver-black hair and a neatly clipped black beard barked out an order. Huma did not hear the exact words, but he knew they had to do with him. His luck ran out at this point, for the woods here were thinner and the riders quite familiar with the terrain, judging by their confident maneuvers. When he realized he could not escape them, the knight turned and steadied himself. These were not the human forces of the Dragonqueen, that much he knew, but whether they were allies or enemies was uncertain. The first men rode at him. They were good horsemen, but he was able to ward them off at a distance with his sword. He was hard-pressed when a third man rode in and more footsoldiers after that, so that Huma found himself trapped in a rapidly shrinking circle. Still, none of the soldiers attacked. None had the desire to face that flashing blade.

"Stay your weapons! That is an order!"

The other riders arrived. The man who shouted the command urged his mount up to the circle, where the soldiers made way for him. He rode up to Huma and studied him. The commander was a man of strong features, though his face was lined from the responsibilities of leadership. Like many of the Knights of Solamnia, he had the rather hawkish features that spoke of old Ergothian blood—royal blood. His visage, though, was not as severe as those of the Grand Master or Bennett. The slight smile that played across his face would have been out of place on either of the two great knights.

"A Knight of Solamnia? A little far from Vingaard Keep, are you not, Knight of the Crown?"

Huma flushed at what the man must have thought of him. He did not offer a very competent picture of the knighthood. Huma tried to summon up some dignity, and replied, "I have been on my own for days. I have fought off monsters and warriors. My path has not been entirely by choice."

He did not yet trust them enough to speak of the other things.

"I see." The commander shifted in his saddle. "I am Lord Guy Avondale out of Durendi, a bit too far to the south for my tastes at present. Who are you, and what are you doing in the middle of Ergoth? Have the Solamnics broken through at last?" 63

"I am Huma, Knight of Solamnia, defender of the Order of the Crown. I was forced this direction by the Black Guard when the Dragonqueen's dark minions crushed our lines." He might have lied, built up their hopes, but he chose not to. Avondale's face turned white. The soldiers with him began muttering nervously to themselves.

"Do I understand you correctly? The knighthood has been crushed?"

"No, Lord Avondale. Our lines were crushed, but we were to regroup farther back. I, unfortunately, was pressed in the wrong direction. Vingaard Keep still stands as it always has and always will."

The other gave him a sarcastic smile. "We in Ergoth are only too familiar with the strength of the knighthood, although it seems to have availed little. Glad I am to hear that the knights have not been totally vanquished, though."

One of the other riders moved closer, and Huma whirled, his blade daring the man to try something. Avondale held up a hand to calm both of them.

"There is much I wish to ask of you, but you appear to be all in. You," the commander pointed at the horseman who had moved closer, "give him your horse for now."

"Yes, milord."

Huma looked from the proffered horse to Guy Avondale and back to the horse. The noble frowned when he realized the young knight's thoughts.

"This is no trap, Huma. We are as much the foes of the Dragonqueen as you are. Let past differences remain where they are—in the past."

"I wish only the same, Lord Avondale." Huma grunted and climbed thankfully onto the steed.

"Fine. When we get back to camp, I'll see that you are fed. Then you can either rest or come straight to me."

A thought came to Huma. "Milord, have there been any rumors of a lone minotaur wandering this region?"

"A minotaur?" Avondale looked at his seconds in puzzlement. They shook their heads.

"It seems not. If there is one, we shall deal with it, never fear." Huma's voice grew urgent. "Milord, that is what I do not want! The minotaur—I realize this will be difficult to accept—is an ally and must not be harmed. His name is Kaz."

"Indeed." Avondale studied Huma once again. Longer, this time. "I have never heard of such a thing and most definitely never thought I would hear it from a Knight of Solamnia. But I will do as you request. Is that sufficient?"

"Yes, milord."

"Fine." Avondale turned to his aide. "Return this column to some semblance of order. Have that one locked up when we return." The noble found himself looking into the eyes of the young knight. "The man you were chasing was a deserter. You have my gratitude. I look forward to our talk."

The horsemen and footsoldiers realigned themselves and, on Lord Avondale's order, began to move south. Although Huma would have preferred to continue on toward the southwest, he trusted Lord Avondale.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea struck Huma, and he nearly slid off the side of the saddle.

"Gods!" The commander's jaws worked, but, at first, he did not know what to say.

"Derek, help keep him up! We do not want him to fall beneath the hooves of his horse." Avondale took a closer look at Huma. "Gods!" he repeated. "He's covered with wounds!" There were no healers of Mishakal with the army. A new wave of plague had struck near Caergoth, and the clerics there had been among its first victims. Avondale muttered something about the plague being very particular, for it most often struck where it hurt the most. Caergoth had been previously untouched and was to have been the main source of 64

supplies for Avondale's forces. Huma slept for a full day, which worried the noble, for overwhelming fatigue was one of the first signs of the plague. Only when Huma woke, full of energy and gratitude, did Lord Guy relax. When he was satisfied that the young knight was completely well again, Avondale requested his presence for a private conversation. The commander was a decent man, despite all Huma had heard about Ergoth from the higher-ranking members of the knighthood. Avondale was a brilliant strategist as well, although he would have much preferred utilizing his abilities to better his lands. The Emperor of Ergoth, a faceless entity known as Bestell III, had decreed that Lord Avondale should command the armies in his name. The noble, while a very loyal servant to his country, wished that his lord and master could have at least spared some of his highly trained and highly experienced royal guard to replace part of the already vastly depleted forces. Like his predecessors, though, Bestell III was concerned with his own well-being. There was always some reason that prevented him from deploying his personal guard anywhere farther than the capital's gates.

The news of the knighthood's disaster only added to Lord Avondale's growing list of woes. "I still find it hard to reconcile, but I know you tell me the truth, Huma. As of now, I do not see how I can return you to your comrades. We are riding to Daltigoth, on orders of the emperor, and then will most likely turn back up north. I feel like a puppet whose master pulls the strings up and down."

Huma sat alone with him in the commander's tent, the first time the knight had been permitted to leave his tent. The young knight had been provided with sturdy Ergothian armor that Avondale admitted had been intended for his son before the latter's death in his first battle. The strong mail went well with the surviving pieces of Huma's armor. The damage to the helmet and breastplate had proved repairable after all. Huma was thankful for that. As much as he admired the craftsmanship of the Ergothian armor, much of it was too showy even for the most aristocratic of the Knights of Solamnia. Avondale had confided that he wore his ceremonial armor only if he was presenting himself to the emperor. For lesser dignitaries, his battle armor would have to do, even if it disturbed their sensitivities. Huma had told him everything, except the ill-fated quest he was on. "Is there any way I might be granted free travel in your country?"

"We are in the midst of war, Huma. How could I permit you to travel freely?" Huma took a sip of the wine that Avondale had offered him. It struck him as amusing that a noble would treat a minor Solamnic knight with such respect. But the Ergothian was no fool; he knew that few other men could have survived Huma's experience. Thus, he was treating Huma accordingly.

"If I may speak candidly . . ." Huma glanced at the guards outside. The knight sighed and continued. "It has been rumored that somewhere to the southwest there is a key to ending this eternal war. Somewhere in a range of mountains." Avondale pondered this. "There is a range of mountains in that general direction. Few ever travel there. It is said to be a haven for the dragons of darkness and, perhaps, other things as well. There may indeed be something of importance in that vicinity." For a moment, Huma's spirits soared. "Can you accompany me?" The commander laughed. "I'm afraid the emperor would have my head for that. Besides, it is unfit terrain for troops on horseback. Patrols have gone to those mountains and vanished. Mages refuse to go there, and clerics warn everyone away. Does that give you any idea of what you are asking?"

"Yes, milord." Huma slumped down on the stool and held his head. The tent was suddenly very warm. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. A moment, please." Huma wiped sweat form his forehead. The fever subsided. Lord Avondale looked worried. "Perhaps we had better continue our talk tomorrow." 65

"That would be better, milord."

"So I see." The noble rubbed his chin. "Come with me to Caergoth, and I will see to it that you are able to go on to the mountains on your own, if you still desire to."

"Caergoth?" The heat had left Huma blurry-eyed. He found it difficult to focus on the commander.

"Yes, Caergoth. The clerics will steer us from the plague areas. What do you say?"

"Thank you." Huma rose swiftly, and his head began to swim. He desired nothing more than to lie down. He still had not regained much of his vigor. "If you would excuse me?"

"By all means." Guy Avondale watched the Solamnic knight hurry off. His brow wrinkled in worry. He took a sip of wine and then stared into the glass. Before being pressed into the service of their emperor, most of Lord Avondale's soldiers had been simple tradesmen and farmers. Thus it was that they knew of the Knights of Solamnia as little more than legend. Now, they had one such legend traveling in their midst, and the tales of his adventures, real and imagined, were already making the rounds through the camp. Huma was almost as awestruck as the Ergothians, for he did not consider himself a legend, and the open stares he received embarrassed him greatly. Most of the stories revolved loosely about the chase and his berserker's stand against the ebony-armored servants of the warlord. He had slain a legion of them, it appeared, including a massive pack of the demonic dreadwolves, much feared by men who knew their families lived virtually unprotected while they were away at war. Huma found it puzzling that men of Ergoth, the land from which his own knighthood had forcibly sprung, could look up to him as a champion.

Avondale seemed amused. When Huma protested that the stories were getting out of hand, he only smiled and replied that such was the true trial of every great legend, living up to his own reputation. 'They need their heroes. It gives them hope—hope that somehow the darkness that is Takhisis will be defeated and they will be able to return to their loved ones." Occasionally, dragons would sweep in with some word of the war. Northern Ergoth and Hylo had been overrun. Huma grew anxious. He wondered if Kaz had continued north or if he had turned south to seek Huma. Even if the latter were the case, a minotaur would not be welcome in any town in this land. It was not just Kaz that Huma worried about; the battlescarred easterner would do his utmost to assure he did not die alone. Huma asked for news of Solamnia, but the dragons who arrived knew nothing of what had occurred there. There were rumors that the knights had been pushed back nearly half the distance to Vingaard Keep. Of the east, nothing could be ascertained. They made camp near the ruins of a once-prosperous town, two days from Caergoth. The town had perished from plague in the early days of the war, and some people believed the newest wave had originated in its ruins. Avondale was of another mind.

"You will recall," he said to Huma that same evening, "that I mentioned how particular I believed the plague was."

"I remember."

The noble tapped his fingers on the table in his tent. "I believe it is so particular because it is purposefully being directed by human agents." Huma did not want to believe that anyone would deliberately spread disease, but he knew something of the cult of Morgion. They were rumored to have agents in all societies, all organization, all countries, waiting for the command to unleash the deadly gifts of their god.

"Could you not be mistaken?" Huma would have preferred it that way.

"Perhaps."

Huma was no longer confined to the camp itself. Avondale had applied that restriction on the first day, but had relaxed it once he was assured that Huma would not do something 66

foolish, such as ride off without assistance. Thus it was that Huma wandered from the campsite, eventually picking his way toward the nearest ruins. The ruins disturbed him, as did anything associated with plague, but Huma knew that there would be no traces of disease after all this time.

Huma had had no intention of entering the remains of the ill-fated town—until he caught a glimpse of the four-legged shadow that quickly melted into the maze of decrepit buildings. It might have been merely a wolf, or perhaps a wild dog. Drawing his sword, he stalked after the shadow-thing. He did not notice how deep into the ruins he had gone until he heard the scurrying of something among the desolate buildings. It was not the sound he would have expected of a four-legged creature. Training and experience told him that this new intruder walked on two legs. Huma tried to make out shapes in the darkness. He saw the faint glow of two crimson eyes before they vanished into one of the buildings. The knight took a step toward the site. He heard something skitter within the house to his left. Turning in that direction, Huma could make out nothing but more darkness.

A tall, formless mass bumped him as it moved swiftly past his backside. He whirled and was rewarded with a yelp of pain from the figure before it literally melted into the night. Huma rushed after it, sword before him.

There was no place the figure could have gone but through the battered doorway before the knight. Huma kicked away the remainder of the door and dove in. The room was empty. He checked the other rooms of the small house. They, too, were inhabited only by the usual vermin. His quarry had vanished. He took a few angry steps toward the back of the building, kicking up dust as he moved. Behind the back of the building, he saw nothing but more rubble. Unless something were lying flat on the ground beneath those particular ruins, he suspected it must be elsewhere. There just was nowhere to hide out there.

The floating dust caused Huma to cough badly. He suddenly felt weak and nauseated, and it was a strain just to walk, much less hold his sword. In irritation, he threw the blade to the floor, raising even more aggravating dust. His armor was caked with the stuff, but he did not care. He was staggering now. The dust seemed everywhere, filling his eyes, nose, ears, and throat. He made it to the doorway and, with a sigh, slumped down and sat staring at the lifeless street. This, too, became much too tiring, and he decided that a nap would do much, much more good. The knight closed his eyes, and snores quickly followed. Dark figures clad in long, enveloping cloaks and hoods seemed to form shadows around him. Their faces could not be seen beneath the deep hoods, and only one of them revealed hands. That one removed a small vial from his belt and uncorked it. With gentle care, he poured the contents on the floor. The contents, a reddish powder, reacted immediately with that which Huma had believed to be the dust of ages. The two hissed and steamed, canceling one another until nothing remained save the natural layer of gray powder that had accumulated through the years. The hooded figure resealed the bottle and turned toward the fallen knight He snapped his fingers, and four of his companions scurried over to take hold of Huma.

Within a minute, the room was empty. Had anyone looked inside, they would have seen no indication of recent entry. There was no sign of the knight and no sign of his shadowy captors.

A mocking howl cut through the bleak air of the ghost town.

CHAPTER 12

67

Voices hissed incomprehensibly. seemingly in some sort of debate. It took the groggy knight several seconds before he came to realize that it was he the voices were arguing over. He wished his eyes would work so that he could see who was so concerned with his welfare. Another voice, somehow familiar, cut in, full of anger. "Why do you delay?"

"He is marked."

"Of what concern is that, Skularis?"

The one called Skularis hissed at some offense in the question. "There is something amiss when a Knight of Solamnia bears such a mark."

A second voice, more like the croak of some great bullfrog, snapped, "He would not understand, Nightmaster! This one on the ground is more one of us than him." The first speaker, the Nightmaster, tried again to explain. "We have agents among them. Powerful ones, indeed." The other speaker croaked his agreement. Huma stirred a little. They seemed to think he bore some kind of important mark. All he had right now was a burning forehead.

"I am aware of what the mark means," the familiar voice—where had he heard it?—

said. "I am also aware that it is not going to kill him as I had originally thought. Excellent. He bears information I need. His very existence is important to me."

"What would you have us do, then? We cannot do him harm, not if one of ours has marked him for protection."

The evident outsider snarled, and Huma's senses came alive as he recognized the sound. Only the dreadwolves made a sound like that.

Someone must have noticed the shifting of his body, for a gloved hand reached down and turned Huma's head from left to right. The glove was quite rotten; it stank so badly that Huma instinctively pulled away from it. The one identified as Nightmaster chuckled obscenely.

"He is not one of us, but one of us has sought to protect him. This grows more and more interesting."

"What shall we do?" the croaker asked.

"You must hide him, you wretched cadavers!" the outsider snarled. "Hide him until my servants can contact you! Has the plague taken your minds as well as your bodies?" Huma's eyes seemed willing to open at that point, just a crack. Two figures resembling high mounds of moldy, stinking cloth stood conversing with—a dreadwolf. No one else. It took Huma's fog-enshrouded mind several moments to realize that Galan Dracos—from his citadel far away somewhere—was using his unliving servant as his eyes, ears, and mouth in Ergoth.

That they were still somewhere in the ruins was only a guess. What little he could make out lent credence to that guess, for the room was filled with rubble and part of the ceiling was gone. Huma did not know how long he had been unconscious or how far they had dragged him.

Then the more menacing of the two ragged assailants lifted an arm, revealing a bony, scarred hand with the index finger pointed at the renegade's messenger. "Have a care, mage. You have her blessing for now, but she is a fickle queen to those who fail her. You would do well to speak more civilly with those you need."

The pale form of the dreadwolf bristled with barely contained fury as Dracos allowed his emotions to be transmitted through his servant. The smaller of the two hooded figures shuffled back, two blotchy hands held up in obvious fear.

The other, the Nightmaster, must have smiled, for his tone was full of mockery. "Your powers are fearsome to the fear-filled, but not to one who enjoys the protection of Morgion." Morgion! Huma was barely able to stifle the shock that leaped through his taut body. He was a prisoner of the cultists of Morgion, god of disease and decay!

"This is a foolish waste of time," Dracos finally muttered. 68

"Agreed. Very well, mage. My brethren will keep this one for your lackeys, but only because it serves the Master's goals to do so. Not because I fear your power."

"Of course not."

"But the mark—" said the croaker.

"There are times, brother, when we all must make sacrifices for the greater glory of Morgion."

"And the Queen, of course," added Dracos purposefully.

"And the Queen. Pity. I am still curious as to the reason for the mark." Skularis put a hand to Huma's forehead.

Huma reeled from the shock, feeling as if his very soul were being invaded. He cringed, but he had no room to maneuver away from the clawlike hand. Quite suddenly, he was no longer in the ruins. A kaleidoscope of sights and sounds enveloped him. Huma felt no fright. A part of him knew this state was only in his mind, though he could not explain how this should calm him. Huma thought he could hear the sounds of horses riding into battle, the clank of armor, the cries of battle, and steel against steel. He saw a vision of three knights. Each wore a symbol of the knighthood: the crown, the sword, and the rose. They all wore visors, but Huma knew somehow the two in back could only be the twin gods Habbakuk and Kiri-Jolith. Two of the Solamnic Triumvirate—which meant that he who stood before them . . .

With a horrible abruptness, Huma was wrenched from that vision and returned to the real world once more. Had he not been gagged, he would have screamed, for the bony, disease-ridden hand pulled sharply away from him, seeming to take strips of his flesh as it did. Through blurred eyes, Huma could see the two cloth-enveloped figures staring down at him.

"I could not penetrate his mind. He is shielded through sheer willpower alone. Fascinating."

"And the mark?" croaked the second.

"No longer there. It was too weak. He is too much a pawn of the prolonger of pain, that which fools call Life. He is not one of us—could never be one of us." From behind them, the voice of Dracos issued forth once more from the maw of the dreadwolf. 'Then there can be no more hesitation."

"None. He is yours when your servants come." The cleric snapped his fingers. Huma's eyes chose that moment to clear. Hooded figures emerged from the darkness, disease-wracked ghouls like the dead of a battlefield come back to some semblance of life.

'Take him to the catacombs. Bind him to the altar."

"No sacrifices!"

Even Huma could not miss the curling of the cleric's lip. "Have no fear, cur. He will be alive and well. It shall be interesting to see if you have better luck than I did." Dracos had no reply for that, or at least the dreadwolf repeated no message. Huma struggled, but his bonds, held together. Four of the cloaked figures grabbed him roughly and lifted. Their combined odor was nearly overwhelming.

He had hoped to get some idea where they were and where they were going, but his view was obscured by the moth-eaten sleeve of one of his bearers. He suspected that they still were quite close to the building where he had foolishly fallen victim to one of the cult's traps. Huma knew something of the followers of Morgion. They were expert at keeping their plots and membership secret. That they were taking him to the catacombs meant that they lived beneath Caergoth itself, a frightening revelation. Small wonder no trace of the origins of the plague could be found. It was not from something within or near the city, but beneath it. A breeze wafted some of the stench from his nostrils. Huma assumed that they must have stepped from one of the ruined buildings back into the night. He sought desperately for 69

some plan of escape, suspecting that the catacombs would be virtually impossible to traverse. But he was tightly bound and gagged, and his situation seemed hopeless now. The group had traveled a short distance from the building when Huma heard what appeared to be the hoot of a night bird. The ragged figures came to an abrupt halt as they belatedly realized what Huma had recognized instantly.

There was a hiss as something hurtled through the air and then one of Huma's bearers went down, an arrow in his chest. The knight had time to brace himself as the others lost their grip on him and he fell to the ground face up.

Then it was pandemonium as brilliant light left the hooded figures with nowhere to hide. Well-placed arrows took down two more before the cultists could get their bearings. The one called Skularis ran past Huma's field of vision. He was foregoing the honors of command for the safety of fleeing. It was a short-lived flight, however; not one, but three arrows caught him in the back. The Nightmaster wobbled like a mad puppet and collapsed in a heap. Armored figures were now rushing out even as the light dimmed. Of the cloaked villains—there had been more than a dozen, Huma was shocked to realize—only four were still standing. They lacked any substantial weapons, and the first soldiers to wade into the combat made the mistake of believing themselves safe from harm. That mistake was made evident when one of the dark clerics pulled forth a small pouch and threw it at the nearest armored figure. Huma could hear the man's scream and the shocked cries of other soldiers as all the ravages of the plague seemed to occur within the space of seconds. A familiar figure stepped before him and leaned down to test the bonds. "What a fool I was! I should have known ..."

The archers were taking over. By the time Avondale had finished cutting Huma's bonds, the last of the cloaked menaces lay dead.

"The dreadwolf? Did you get it?"

"Dreadwolf?" Avondale scanned the area worriedly. "I have not seen it!"

"My sword!" Huma's weapon lay half-buried under one of the cultists. He tugged at it mindlessly, his only concern that the four-legged horror must be stopped. Somehow, impossibly, the creature had evaded the fighting and was escaping. Huma did not want the dreadwolf tracking him down again and transmitting to its master the knight's location and activities.

He heard Lord Avondale call after him, but he ignored him. He had to see the thing destroyed.

A scrabbling of running feet alerted him. He followed the sound at full speed, only barely missing numerous holes and mounds that threatened to send him flying if he made a misstep. He did not think of the dangers.

Huma leaped over the remains of a stone wall. The plague had not directly caused all the damage around him; the crazed riots and torching of plagued homes had done that. He landed on rubble. Suddenly, his foot slipped from beneath him and he was falling backward. By the strongest of efforts, he succeeded in keeping his grip on the sword. The errant foot twisted beneath him, and he gritted his teeth in pain. As he lay there, stunned, the fearsome visage thrust itself into his face. The long, yellowed fangs hovered near his throat, and the blood-red tongue flickered in and out of the massive jaws. The sightless eyes revealed only death to the trapped knight. The dreadwolf's front claws pressed sharply into Huma's chest.

"Rather would I deprive the mage of his puppet friend!" The jaws closed in on the knight's throat.

Huma swung the blade hard against the dreadwolf. It was an awkward angle, and the cut he inflicted was negligible. But it did throw the beast off his chest. 70

The dreadwolf rolled over once and landed on its feet. The crimson eyes glowed fiercely, and the thing's lips curled back in hatred. Huma raised his sword high. Suddenly, the creature burst into flames. One second it had stood there, preparing to strike, the next it was a fireball. Huma looked on in amazement, and then noticed a new figure stepping out from behind the ruins of what had once been a fairly large inn.

"Magius!"

The mage quickly raised a finger to his lips and indicated the need for silence. He was thinner, and much of the vanity was gone from his manner. The once-brilliant gold sheen of his hair was now a miserable brown, and it was cut much shorter. Had it been burned away?

Magius was also wearing something else Huma had not seen him dressed in since the early days of training—a crimson robe.

"Come! I have laid a confusion spell on Lord Avondale's men, but it will not be long before they realize which way you really ran!"

"But—" Huma knew it was madness to follow his old friend again, but the bonds forged strong yesterday were just as powerful today.

"Come!" Magius repeated urgently.

Huma followed.

They moved with astonishing speed through the town, eventually coming to the far southern end. Two horses awaited them there. Magius indicated that the more massive of the beasts was for the knight. Only when they were well on their way did Magius speak.

"We must ride hard for some time. There is a Solamnic outpost to bypass."

"Outpost?" Somewhat unfamiliar with regions south of Solamnia, the news came as a great shock to Huma. Knights of Solamnia! In Ergoth!

"Was that you who unleashed the light?"

"Yes," Magius replied. "I'll explain in the morning, after I am sure we have lost whatever pursuit the Ergothian no doubt has organized already!" Huma slowed the horse. "Why are we running from Lord Avondale?" The mage's eyes flashed. "Are you blind? Do you think the Ergothian was aiding you out of the goodness of his soul?"

Huma refrained from snapping back that, yes, he had come to trust the noble. Where was the crime in that?

"You told him that there was something in the mountains, didn't you? You told him about the path!"

"You're babbling, Magius. I don't even know about any path." Magius grimaced, and Huma realized that the mage had let something slip. The spellcaster recovered quickly, though, and said, "You told him there is something in the mountains to the southwest that could bring victory against Takhisis. He is first and foremost an Ergothian noble, Huma. Ergothian nobles are noted for their willingness to do whatever they must in order to increase their own prestige and power. Think what you have told him. What a great prize it would be for him to deliver to his emperor. Think about how the emperor would reward the man who succeeded in bringing peace to Ansalon at long last. An Ergothian noble would kill for something as valuable as what we seek." The words—or perhaps it was the tone—almost seemed hypnotic. Huma kept telling himself that Lord Avondale was a good man. Yet would his loyalty not be first to his emperor rather than to a wandering knight? He had offered Huma safe passage, but only if the knight first traveled with him. Huma shook the madness from his head. He was not sure anymore what was right or wrong, except that he wanted to find that mountain. He was now headed that direction, and it seemed pointless to turn back now.

He did not notice the bitter smile that crept onto the worn face of the mage as the latter turned forward once more.

71

With Magius guiding them, they rode a twisted path through the plains and wooded lands southwest of Caergoth.

It was near dawn before the two finally came to a halt. Magius revealed a small, nearly hidden lake. They tied the horses near good grazing. The mage went to sleep shortly after—

again without explaining things. Huma propped himself against a tree and sat staring out at the calm lake. He pondered the renegade mage who now wanted Huma as badly as he wanted Magius. Dracos.

The dreadwolf had been reduced to ash, leaving Galan Dracos without his spy and blind to the doings of Huma and Magius, at least for the time being. With the war taking so much of his personal effort, the renegade magic-user had been forced to rely on his spies for too much. Huma suspected that Dracos knew at least as much as Huma did about what Magius sought, and perhaps more. Somewhere, sometime, there would be more spies—and Huma had no doubt that sooner or later Galan Dracos would temporarily turn from his many other tasks and personally endeavor to put an end to both his enemies and their quest. He picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the center of the lake—only to watch it come flying back out at him. Huma tried to stand, but his legs buckled. What had he walked into this time? he wondered angrily.

Abruptly, a woman's head popped up from the edge of the lake. Though slightly green, it was very lovely. The eyes were narrow slits, as if the woman had just awakened. She had a tiny, pert nose and long, full lips. When she rose from the water, Huma saw that she was slim and long-legged, although she would not stand even as high as his shoulders. Her sole garment, a thin gown, was soaked and clung to every curve. A nymph. He had heard stories of them. They were said to be of the Age of Dreams, when there was no recorded history. Whether they were a race was debatable. They were very rarely seen.

"Hello, manling." Her voice was melodious, like a small forest bird's. She smiled, and Huma's face reddened. Still, attractive though she was, another female form, Gwyneth's, superimposed itself on his imagination. He managed to get to his feet.

"Hello." It took him some time to build up the nerve to reply. The nymph disturbed him even as she attracted him. Such creatures, legend said, were not only playful, but deadly. More than one man had been lured to his demise, if there was any truth in the ancient tales. Huma’s hand stroked the pommel of his sword. Her kind was magical, and, despite his friendship with Magius, Huma still shared some of the knighthood's distrust of sorcery. Huma looked down by his side and was surprised to find that Magius still slept. Huma suspected the sleep was no longer natural, and he shuddered.

The nymph gave a surprised laugh. "I thought you were someone else," she said. "I like you, too, though."

"Oh?" He tried his best to be casual, though his heart and mind were racing. "Why did you think I was someone else?" If others visited the lake, Huma did not wish to remain here long. Should they be anything like the nymph, Huma suspected he would stand no chance if it came to conflict. His hand involuntarily gripped the handle of his weapon.

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

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

She pouted. "You even sound like Buoron."

"Were you expecting him?" Huma glanced quickly around the edge of the lake, halfexpecting to see a heavily armored figure come crashing through the trees at any moment. The nymph walked onto the shore. Huma turned to Magius, but the mage still slept.

"He won't wake until I let him. I don't like him."

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The knight's brow wrinkled. "You know him, too?"

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

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

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

"Cavern builders?"

"The ones that dig in the ground, silly. You know, short funny men." Dwarves. It was maddening to try to make sense of some of the things the nymph said. She was standing close to him now, innocently leaning just close enough to unnerve him. "Are you sure you would not like to come see my home? I won't let you drown as long as you do not get boring."

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

The nymph stepped away. "I wish you would not do that!" Although not technically evil, she was not a creature of Paladine, nor Gilean, either. Therefore, true prayers to either, could annoy her or even drive her away. Huma was about to apologize when he heard the sound of a heavy horse coming through the brush not far away. He tried to rise and grip his sword.

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

The horse and rider broke through the foliage and onto the narrow strip of plain surrounding the tiny lake. The man wore a cloak over most of his body, but Huma could see the glint of armor underneath. The newcomer did not notice them at first. When he did, he merely gaped at Huma. The cloak slid open, and Huma was given his first good view of the armor beneath. Huma looked from armor to face, and back to armor again. He recalled Magius's hurried mention of an outpost somewhere in southern Ergoth. A Solamnic outpost. The nymph smiled sweetly. "See why I mistook you for Buoron? You even wear the same armor."

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

CHAPTER 13

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

"Leave us now," Buoron said to the nymph.

"Will you not fight?"

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

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

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

"She's put him under," Huma explained.

A sigh. The knight seemed to expect this. "Why?"

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

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

"The one who keeps dying."

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

"Release him," the rider ordered.

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

"No. Leave us. This is important."

The water creature put two delicate hands on her hips and gave an angry look. "I do not like you anymore. I no longer want you to come visit me." She ran off into the water and, when it proved deep enough, dove beneath the surface. There was nothing to indicate that she was anything but human, save for the slight greenish cast to her skin and the amazing fluidity of her movements. Huma wondered how she breathed.

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

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

"Give her a few moments. She can hold onto the spell for only a brief time longer. You know my name, brother of the Order. What might yours be?" Huma straightened. "I am Huma, Knight of the Crown, out of Vingaard Keep."

"Vingaard!" The name was spoken as if the name of Paladine himself. "Have they broken through at last? Is the war finally coming to a close?" Huma shook his head and then stared at the ground. Quickly, he described what had happened. Buoron was not pleased.

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

"Has she always lived here?"

Buoron shrugged. He did not like speaking about the nymph. His relationship, no matter what it was, was something the knighthood would not condone. "She was here when I joined the outpost. Her treasures are incredibly ancient." He paused. "I came upon her by accident. The other knights never come this far. I was chasing a stag, and I had no desire to lose it. It is not often we eat such splendid fare at the outpost. For one reason or another, the stag rushed through here. I fell when my steed came to an abrupt halt, and when I finally had cleared the pain from my head, I found myself looking into her eyes." Huma could read the embarrassment in the other knight's features. "You need have no fear, brother of the Order. I will tell no one of this lake." Buoron shrugged. 'They know, more or less. I have made no secret of my comings and goings, and I have done little more than sit with her. A nymph is not real. I would want something more." Magius began to stir. The other knight pointed at him. "Your sorcerous friend wakes. I doubt he will take kindly to having been kept under a glamour spell all this time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It is still no excuse."

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

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

Magius chuckled enigmatically.

The other knight was taking a distinct dislike to the spell-caster. Pretending not to have heard the mage's laugh, Buoron indicated the duo's mounts.

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

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

"Um." That was all that Buoron would say in reply, but he watched both men with interest, Huma noted, as they untied their animals and mounted them. When they were ready, he pointed to the west. "That way. Ride on ahead. I’ll be only a moment." Huma and Magius urged their steeds through the trees and brush. The former glanced back and saw Buoron dismount and remove a small wooden carving from one of his saddlebags. The water nearby began to bubble, and the head of the nymph broke the surface. Then Huma's view was cut off by the trees. When his companion turned to him, the knight reacted as if his thoughts had been on the trail ahead.

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

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

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

"Are you a large outpost? I'd not known there was anyone here." 75

Buoron laughed, bitterly, it seemed. "Neither did I, until I was ordered down here some five years ago. No, we're not a large outpost. Eighty knights trying to keep watch on a countryside rivaling the size of Solamnia. We had more once." Huma did not need elaboration. Now, with the war going so badly, they truly were cut off from all others save their counterparts on the western side of the mountains. They could not abandon the outposts and go riding north to join the struggle. They had been ordered down here, and they would stay until that order was changed. Duty was something ingrained into every knight. Rennard had expressed the importance of that, time and time again.

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

"No." Buoron had no desire to converse with the spellcaster.

"Has anyone?"

"Only to the outer peaks. We stay away from the inner range." Magius appeared quite interested. "Why is that?"

"The paths are unsafe. That's all."

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

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

"We are almost there."

Huma took his first look at the Solamnic outpost. It was not a towering edifice like Vingaard Keep. The entire structure was made of wood, treated so that flames could not turn it into a deathtrap. The walls surrounding the complex appeared to be more than four times Huma's height. The top edge was consistently punctuated by gaps set aside for archers. Only one building was visible over the wall, a watchtower upon which even now a sentry was standing, his attention fixed on the approaching trio. The man raised a shout and pointed toward them. Buoron did not call out, but he gave the sentry a weary wave. Huma glanced at Magius; the mage was staring longingly at the distant mountains. There were renewed cries when the sentry noticed that one of the two strangers was a fellow knight. The wooden gates swung open as the three reared them, and it appeared that nearly all of the outpost's inhabitants were coming out to welcome the newcomers.

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

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

Taggin nodded grimly. "I'd thought as much." To the rest of the assembled knights, he said,

"Return to your duties! Remember that you are Knights of Solamnia, not a gaggle of hungry geese!"

Some disappointment showed in the faces of the knights, many of whom, Buoron explained, had been assigned to the outpost for nearly ten years. Taggin had been there twice as long. In fact, he had manned the outpost by himself for many years. Huma could not help smiling. Somehow, he felt that he was among a different breed of knights than those back at Vingaard Keep. They were less strict with the rules, more willing to bend to circumstances.

76

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

The outpost's builders had planned as well as they could. Huma noted that the structure was close enough to the woods to allow the knights easy access to hunting and to gathering fuel for fires, yet was far enough into the plains so that any attempted assault would force the enemy to rush across long stretches of flat, open field. Water was provided by a small stream and a deep well. Later, Huma would discover that the knights even grew their own crops in a fortified extension behind the rest of the outpost. Again, Huma could not help marvel at the differences between the knighthood here and back in Solamnia. Taggin ordered Buoron to deliver the two over to him as soon as they were clean and fed. Magius quite bluntly stated that he would talk to no one until he was finally allowed some rest. The commander frowned at the mage's arrogant manner but conceded the necessity.

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

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

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

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

Huma indicated the gates. "Why the heavy patrol? Is there activity by the ogres?" Buoron shook his head. "I am beginning to doubt if there will ever be. No, this problem is more local. We do a little trade with the Qualinesti elves, though they generally tend to stay to themselves, like most of their kind."

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

"Did you see this creature?"

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

"For what purpose?"

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

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

but he seemed nervous.

"You have no idea how it stands at present?"

Huma shook his head. "None. The hope was to regroup. That is all I know." 77

"I see." Taggin stared at him with penetrating eyes. After several moments, the elder knight said, "Nothing we can do. It will be best to break the news to the men first thing in the morning, Buoron."

Buoron, who had been standing quietly through the entire talk, did not hesitate. "I'll do it. Lord Taggin."

"Fine." The commander cleared off everything from the table he used for his work.

"You are excused, lad."

Huma turned as Buoron did, but Taggin immediately stopped him. "Not you, Knight Huma. I still have a few things to ask you. Be seated, please." Nothing was said until Buoron had departed. Huma felt uncomfortable alone in the presence of Taggin but was disciplined enough not to show it. Taggin tapped his fingers on the table. After evidently gathering his thoughts, he spoke.

'What is the purpose of your travels?"

"Milord?"

The nervousness of the senior knight had vanished. His voice and stare were both steady. "Don't hedge, Huma. This is not Vingaard. I will not hold you to anything you say. This is between us. I like to think that I'm a good enough judge of character, and I trust you despite the company you keep."

"Thank you, milord."

Taggin smiled ruefully at the politeness. "I'm already well aware of my status and especially of my age. Please, call me Taggin. Now then, what is your purpose for coming here? I can think of a hundred different routes that would have taken you back to Vingaard long before now. Why head south? Is it the mage? Despite his less-than-savory attitude, I gather the two of you are close."

"We grew up together." Huma was hesitant about expanding on his friendship with Magius any more than necessary.

"Did you? Unusual combination. Still, a man is more than symbols or robes, be they white, red, or even black."

"He is not evil, Lo—Taggin."

The outpost commander smiled slightly. "I did not say he was." Huma began to break down in the presence of understanding. "He fears for his life, but he also thinks to end this war."

"Which was his first priority?"

"I—" Huma tensed. "I would have to say his life is more important to him."

"Understandable. Providing, of course, it is not to the detriment of the world." Huma had no answer for that.

Lord Taggin stood up and paced around the room. "Why have you decided to join him on this—shall we say 'quest' for want of a better word? Is it merely out of friendship?"

"Yes. No. Both."

The elder knight raised an eyebrow. "Both?"

To explain his answer, Huma first had to tell Taggin of the Test and how it had affected Magius. The Knight of the Rose listened patiently as Huma told him about Magius's premonition of his own death. Taggin's expression changed little.

"You've been quite honest with me," the commander said when Huma had finished.

"I'd like to digest it and then speak to you again come the morrow." Now that it was over, Huma was sweating. "Yes, milord. Thank you." Taggin sat down in his chair. "I've lived a long life, Huma. I've seen more than you think. I want you to consider that tonight. Dismissed."

Huma saluted and left. Once outside, he exhaled sharply. He found Buoron waiting for him.

78

"You've not eaten for some time," the bearded knight finally said. "Would you like some nourishment?"

Huma smiled thankfully. "I could use some food. Magius might as well."

"He can fend for himself. He's a magic-user."

The comment cut deep. Huma glanced back at the knights' quarters. At last, he replied,

"He's probably still asleep. When he's hungry, he’ll awaken."

"Fine." Buoron led him away, and Huma did not resist. Night grew, aged, and finally passed away. Magius remained asleep. Huma decided that the mage must be purposely building his strength. Magius might have been dead, judging by the way he appeared, all pale and nearly as stiff as a corpse. Huma had checked his pulse, though, and discovered nothing wrong.

As the first hour of day passed, the sentry gave a shout that the patrol was home at last. Men rushed to open the gates, speculation on the success of the hunt rampant. Huma found Buoron and joined the rest. Taggin stepped out of his quarters and merely watched. The first man at the gate peered through a spyhole and turned back in excitement. "They've got something!"

Immediately, Taggin walked toward them. "Everyone on duty return to his post! By the Triumvirate, this is a military establishment, not a circus! You'll see the thing soon enough, if it's truly a beast!"

The gates were opened, and the weary but triumphant party rode in. A number of them appeared wounded, but Buoron whispered that all had returned.

The Beast was not visible, having been wrapped up in weighted nets. Some patches of brown fur were evident, but the nature of the Beast was hidden; the creature had been forced into a ball. It snorted and growled.

Taggin had the Beast dragged to a pen, which had been built days before just for this event. While Huma looked on, several knights took hold of the bound mass and pulled it into the pen. The Beast squirmed and some of its wrapping came loose. The knights hurried out of the pen while the creature continued to try to free itself.

The patrol leader came up to Lord Taggin and saluted. "Found it in the gully: Killed a stag recently and was eating it. Sensed us but by then we had surrounded it. First men tried to net it, and it pulled them in. Got more men wounded trying to rescue the others. For a moment, I thought we were going to have to kill it. Fortunately, we did not have to. It tripped in the tangle of nets, and we had it."

The elder knight nodded. "Paladine watched over you, that is obvious. I'm glad no one was killed. The cage should hold it now."

"Best not to call it a cage. A prison would be a more proper term, milord."

"Prison?" Beside him, Huma and Buoron exchanged glances. "What have we got here?"

The Beast was still unrecognizable, having succeeded in freeing its limbs but not in uncovering itself. It was obvious now, though, that some of its growls were actually muffled words.

The patrol leader looked overly proud. "A spy from the Dragonqueen! One of her ugly creatures from the north. The war has finally come to us." There was a gleam in the knight's eye that Huma, at least, found disturbing. Taggin stepped closer to the prison cage. The Beast had finally begun to tear away the nets still covering it.

"Sargas be damned! I'll tear all of you apart!"

Huma froze. Buoron looked at him, possibly wondering why the sight of the Beast so astonished Huma. Having recently come from the north, Huma should have been familiar with such creatures.

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The Beast pulled the last net from its horned head. It turned on its captors, breathing heavily. With blood-chilling fury, it shook the bars of its new prison.

"Fools! Cowards! Let me fight one of you! Give me a fair chance! Where is your vaunted honor?"

From its present angle, the Beast could not see Huma. Huma, though, could see the Beast quite well. He stared wide-eyed at the furious man-beast and wondered just how he was going to save Kaz from execution.

CHAPTER 14

It was to Buoron he first confided his secret.

"You were fortunate that no one else noticed," said the bearded knight. "Your mouth fairly hung open when he was brought in."

Huma shook his head. "I was stunned. The last I had seen of Kaz, he was riding north and I was riding south. We had a great number of pursuers following us. I was apparently the main prize, for they followed me."

"And paid the price," Buoron remarked quietly. Huma had told him of that incident, without any embellishment. It had not failed to impress the other knight.

"I am amazed that Kaz is here, and has been for at least a couple of days more than I have. He must have turned south almost immediately and just missed me. After we separated, I was forced to let loose my horse in the hope I might lead my pursuers farther astray. I was on foot for some time after that. Still, he must have been riding hard to have gotten all the way here. He must have lost his horse soon after."

"Did he know where you were heading?"

Huma thought long. It seemed ages ago. "In general. Enough, at least, to bear southwest."

Buoron stared out a window in the direction of the cage. Kaz was slumped in sullen anger. "There are many paths that an expert warrior could use to travel safely. He must have discovered our existence down here as well and assumed that you would stop here. Perhaps he even assumed this was your destination."

That made some sense to Huma. "I did mention wanting to return to the knighthood. He may have assumed that I would go here if I could not make it back to Solamnia."

"Or—" Buoron hesitated. "Or he really is a spy, and this was his intention all along."

"No." Huma was unsure about much lately, but the minotaur's loyalty was not an issue.

"You may have trouble convincing the others of that. A minotaur is a minotaur. They will question him and, whether or not he speaks, will probably execute him."

'For what? He's done nothing but defend himself."

Buoron grimaced. "Haven't you heard what I was saying? He's a minotaur. They do not need any other reason."

Huma paced. "I must speak with Taggin."

"Do it soon, then. They will start the questioning today, likely after morning vigils."

"Will I find Taggin in his quarters now?"

"I think not. Being a Knight of the Rose, he will be at his daily prayers by now. It was only because of the hunt that he delayed at all this morning. Speaking of which, have you eased your mind of late?"

Huma stopped his pacing and whitened. "No. I've not. It would serve me right if Paladine turned his eye from me forever."

Buoron shook his head. "I think Paladine is a little more forgiving than that. Come." 80

Taggin was unable to see Huma after prayers. The commanding knight was conferring with his seconds and with the patrol leader. Huma knew better than to demand entrance; it would only hurt his chances of convincing them to free Kaz.

With the leadership busy, Huma decided to face the minotaur. It was not right that he pretend not to know the massive easterner. Kaz had always treated him honestly. The minotaur's place of confinement was a cage like those used by traveling shows to contain their exotic animals: a metal cage with bars, a single gate, and grass and straw piled on the floor. Kaz did not pace to and fro. Instead, he was sitting, staring sullenly at the meat and grain mixture his jailers had left him. It was hardly an appetizing dish, and Huma wondered if it tasted as horrible as it looked.

Two knights guarded the cage, and they quickly blocked Huma's way.

"May I question the prisoner?"

"That is for the Lord Commander to do. Any who wish to watch may do so."

"May I at least speak to him?"

The two knights looked at one another. They were no doubt wondering why one of their number would wish to speak with a minotaur prisoner. At last, the one who had spoken the first time replied, "Not without the Lord Commander's permission." By this time, Kaz had heard the voices. He was slow in reacting, possibly because he was not sure whose voice he was hearing. Then, he suddenly turned and leaped up against the bars.

"Huma!"

The two sentries started, and the one apparently in charge turned and banged a mailed fist against the bars—far enough away that the minotaur could not grab it. "Be silent. Beast!

You'll have your chance to talk when the inquisition meets." Kaz snorted angrily. "I had thought the knights an honorable band, but I see that honor is something very few of them possess!" He raised a long, muscular arm through the bars, his hand open as if in supplication. "Huma! Free me from this cage!" The knights stared at Huma with narrowed eyes. "He seems to know you well. How is that?"

"We have met and traveled together. He is not the Dragonqueen's slave. He is his own creature. He is a friend."

"A friend?" The guards looked at Huma in amazement— and much disbelief. Other knights were beginning to gather, curious as to what the shouting was all about. The other guard finally spoke. "Perhaps, Caleb, we should notify Taggin."

"I will not interrupt him now." Caleb, a tall, plump man with a carnivorous look, pointed at Huma. "If I did not know better, I might think you a spy for consorting with mages and minotaurs. As it is, I think you are just a fool. If you want to speak to this creature, ask Taggin. I would lock you up until the inquisition, if I had my way." There were murmurs of agreement, and Huma was startled. He had gone from favored visitor to seeming outcast in the space of a few seconds.

"What is going on here?"

Everyone, even Kaz, froze at the sound of that voice. It was Lord Taggin, clad in his formal dress armor. At least twenty years had slipped from his face. He was now the very image of authority.

"You men have become rabble of late. I can see that I am going to have to make some changes." Taggin turned to Huma. "I'm told you have some knowledge of this minotaur." Behind the commander, Buoron looked down. "We will begin the questioning in half an hour. I expect you to be present and to have your facts prepared. Understood?"

"Yes, milord."

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Taggin turned to the sentries. "As for you, there are tenets of the knighthood that you seem to be failing. I expect both of you to learn from this incident." The Knight of the Rose did not wait for them to answer. Instead, he walked past them and up to the cage. Kaz glared down at him. Taggin seemed unimpressed.

"Know this, minotaur. The basics of the knighthood stay the same. Your hearing will be impartial. You will be given every chance to prove yourself and to prove what this knight says of you. I will promise that." Kaz did not reply, save for the mere ghost of a nod. Taggin spun around and headed toward his quarters.

* * *

"You never cease to amaze me with your ability to become the center of attention, Huma."

Huma and Buoron looked up as they entered the knights' living quarters. Magius, in full splendor in his robes of red, stared at them from across the room. Again, Huma wondered at the change. Had Magius really returned to the Order of Lunitari, or was this merely another of his whims?

"The mage returns to the land of the living," Buoron remarked dryly. The mage stirred. "Really, Huma, the only thing more foolish than you parading around in sheets of metal is the company you tend to keep. Myself excluded, of course."

"If you have nothing worthwhile to say, Magius, then don't say anything." Huma surprised himself by his comment.

Magius ignored the barb. "I see the minotaur has succeeded in getting into trouble. We really do not have time for this. Had I not required the rest, we could have been gone by last night."

Buoron smiled nastily. "You go nowhere without Lord Taggin's permission."

"Won't I?"

"Not with me, Magius. Not unless Kaz is freed." Huma added. The mage sighed. "Very well. I do hope it won't take long. I know how long and boring inquisitions can be."

"Huma, is this filth really your friend?" Buoron interjected.

"If you can believe it. I still hope to find the old Magius underneath there." For once, the magic-user had no retort. He merely looked at Huma and then studied something interesting on his staff.

"Are you coming with me, Magius?"

His childhood friend looked up. 'To an inquisition? Hardly. They might decide to put me on trial. I shall await the outcome here."

Huma let out a sigh, although whether it was from relief or worry he could not say. Unlike the formal inquisitions of Vingaard Keep, the sessions at the outpost were quick, straightforward, and to the point. Kaz was questioned about his whereabouts for the last half-year. His crime against his former masters and his subsequent meeting with Huma were gone over in minute detail as Lord Taggin looked for some slip that might prove the minotaur untrustworthy.

In the course of the questioning, many facets of the minotaur's past came out. He had been one in a long line of champions in his clan. He had even been given the name of one of his more remote ancestors, a powerful fighter who had been ruler of the race for twenty-three years before finally falling to defeat.

Kaz, though, had grown up in a time in which no true ruler commanded the minotaurs. As Huma had learned, those who controlled the race now were, in turn, puppets of the Dragonqueen's commanders. Each minotaur, male or female, was conscripted into the swelling ranks of the Dark Queen's armies upon reaching fighting age. There were never 82

enough of the race in any one unit to create an atmosphere of rebellion. Kaz's people were severely punished for even the smallest infractions.

The tall warrior admitted he had done his share of fighting. It was part of his nature. Yet he had slowly become sickened by the senseless slaughter around him. There was no honor in much of what he was forced to do. The ogres cared not whether they faced an army or village. All who stood in their path were to be destroyed.

Kaz then went into detail about that final incident, when he had come across the butchering ogre captain. For a brief time, the knights in attendance were solely on his side. The news of the collapse of the Solamnic lines and the chaos that followed brought renewed anger from those knights. From there, Kaz described the attack on the citadel of Magius and the flight that had resulted in the separation of Huma and Kaz. Perhaps the highlight of the questioning occurred when Kaz described Huma's brief but bloody encounter with the warlord. The tide of feeling again flowed toward Huma. Those who had frowned on his odd friendship began to look at him with renewed respect. After Kaz, Huma spoke. He did not plead with the knights, only spoke to them of the minotaur's acts of bravery and justice. He also pointed out that honor was just as important to Kaz as it was to the knighthood.

Lord Taggin looked extremely tired when all was said and done. Standing and facing the minotaur, who was bound and under guard. Lord Taggin took a deep breath and said, "The minotaur Kaz has cooperated in all ways. He has given us a good look at the workings of the Dragonqueen's forces, and his words are confirmed by Huma, Knight of the Crown. By rights, he has earned an honorable death."

Kaz snorted angrily and began to struggle with his bonds. Huma started to rise, but Buoron pushed him back down. Taggin continued.

'There is, however, another possibility. Paladine is the god of justice and wisdom. To execute the minotaur would be as great a travesty as we could commit. Therefore, I am placing him in the capable custody of Knight Huma, whom I believe we can trust to keep him under control." A cheer arose. Opinions of Huma had swayed so much again that he was now nearly as great a hero to his fellows as he had been to the Ergothians.

"Remove the minotaur's bonds."

Knight Caleb reluctantly obeyed. Kaz gave him a toothy grin as the knight removed the last of the bonds; an instant later, the minotaur was bursting through the crowd. Kaz took hold of his former companion and lifted him high with a cry of pleasure.

"I thought never to see you again, friend Huma! You should know that out of respect to you I held my temper while I searched! Glad I am that I chose to turn south immediately. It did occur to me that you might have gone north in search of me." Huma flushed. "I could only hope you were safe. My path led me southward even when I did not wish it to. Magius—"

Kaz misunderstood. "Yes, I saw that dragon-spawned mage friend of yours peering at me. He seemed quite willing to sacrifice me for the sake of expediency. I was so enraged by his satisfied expression that I began contemplating a suicidal escape attempt." The minotaur bellowed in laughter, although Huma could not see why.

Taggin cleared his throat. Huma quickly steered the minotaur over to him. "Lord Taggin, Knight of the Rose. I present to you Kaz, minotaur."

"Of a lineage that has produced more than a dozen champions of my race." Blood did not count as much in the land of the minotaurs as it did among the aristocratically minded Knights of Solamnia, but a lineage that produced champions was highly admired by other minotaurs. To the knights, it was as if Kaz called himself a noble of his people. Taggin greeted the minotaur and then turned serious. "When the others are gone, we will speak. I've summoned the mage, too."

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It did not take long for the room to empty. One look from the commander sent Buoron out the doorway. Kaz looked puzzled, but Lord Taggin refused to talk until Magius had arrived.

With obvious reluctance, the mage entered. Kaz stiffened, and his eyes reddened in anger. Huma feared an attack, but Kaz stood his ground. Magius pretended the massive figure was not even there.

"I have decided to come as you requested. Lord Taggin."

"How very decent of you." The elder knight was no more willing to hide his animosity toward the mage than Buoron had been. "I've decided to allow you to continue your journey and will even provide an escort."

Magius sniffed. "How very decent of you, Lord Taggin, but we do not need an escort. Huma and I can make it on our own."

"But you won't be alone, wolf-spawn," Kaz hissed. "I will be going with you whether an escort does or not."

Taggin held up a hand for silence. "You have no choice. I will send an escort, anyway. It is not a politeness; it is a requirement if you intend going on with this—quest." Magius glared openly at Huma. "Would that you had taken an oath of silence. Your tongue flaps well, it seems."

Huma bristled but would not satisfy his companion with a childish retort. The outpost commander stepped up to Magius until less than a hand's span separated their faces. "You will be leaving tomorrow morning at dawn. No sooner, no later. If you think to sneak away, do not bother. We will find you, and then I will lock you up. We can hold a magic-user. Trust me on that."

It was quite satisfying to Huma when Magius was the first to back down. "Very well. Since we apparently have no choice."

"You do not."

Turning to Huma, Magius pointed to the minotaur and asked, 'That must go with us as well?"

"Absolutely." Kaz added to Huma's answer with a menacing snarl that revealed his teeth.

'The morning, then." Magius turned back to Lord Taggin. "Is that all?"

"No. Do I understand that this is all based on a dream?" The mage smiled, sadly it seemed. 'The Test was no dream. A nightmare is appropriate. A nightmare I hope to change."

Taggin stared into his eyes. "You have not told him everything, have you, Magius?" Huma's eyes widened, then grew wider still, as the magic-user continued to delay his response.

Magius glanced at the others, then abruptly turned toward the door. "No. When the time is right, I will."

They watched him depart.

"Watch him, Huma," Taggin finally whispered. "Not just for your sakes, but for his." The younger knight could only nod. Again, he wondered how he could ever still believe in Magius.

A knight stood waiting on the top of the tallest peak. His visor was down, so it was impossible to identify him. He wore the sign of the Knights of the Rose, and in his left hand he held a magnificent sword. He appeared to offer the weapon to Huma. Huma crawled over crag and ravine. He lost his grip more than a dozen times, but each time he regained it before he had a chance to fall. Although Huma was near the top, the other knight did not help him. Instead, the strange figure continued to hold out the sword. 84

Huma stumbled over and accepted the proffered weapon. It was a beautiful sword—an antique. Huma sliced the air three times. The other knight looked on. The young knight thanked him for the weapon and asked him his name. The visored knight did not speak. Suddenly growing angry, Huma reached forward and lifted the visor. He was never sure what he saw, for something howled and Huma bolted upright in his cot, the dream shattered.

Taggin was there to see that nothing went awry. He paid particular attention to the activities of Magius, but the spell-caster was behaving himself this morning. The escort arrived. Ten men had volunteered. Huma was relieved that Buoron was one of them.

When the entire troop was ready and mounted, Buoron signaled for the gates to be opened. As they rode out, each man, with the exception of Magius and Kaz, saluted the outpost commander. Lord Taggin had said nothing to Huma that morning, but he returned the salute with a slight wave of assurance.

Their route was to take them through open field for the entire journey, giving them an ever-expanding view of the chain of mountains. They were at least several days' journey from their goal. Huma wondered which peak Magius was seeking and what he expected to find. The mage was being very quiet. As a matter of fact, his eyes had been fixed on the mountain peaks from the moment they had left the outpost. Magius stared at the great rocky leviathans as if his life depended on them—which it quite possibly did.

Had Huma looked back at that moment, he might have noticed the swift form that darted into and out of whatever shelter it could find. It did not care for the day, which was harmful to its kind—not that it really thought of itself as other than an extension of its master. Nevertheless, it had made the long journey to act as the eyes and ears of the one who held its existence in his hands. For him, it would suffer the burning pain of daylight, daylight that seared it even through the ever-present cloud cover.

Wherever the knight and the mage traveled, the dreadwolf would follow.

CHAPTER 15

The great giants loomed over them, oblivious to the tiny, uneasy creatures at the outermost edge. The mountains had been magnificent from a distance; they were overwhelming up close. Not even Magius spoke. As one, they could only stare. The mountains here were old, much older than many of their counterparts to the east and even to the north. More than one peak vanished into the cloud cover, testimony to unbelievable heights. Time had weathered all the mountains, some so much that they resembled the shells of gigantic sea creatures. The wind, ever-present and ten times wilder than on the plains, filled the air with almost human shrieks as it danced through the chain.

"Sargas," whispered Kaz. Nobody reprimanded him for the quiet exclamation. It was, of course, Magius who broke their concentration. He shifted uneasily on his mount, his gaze fixed, for the most part, on the peaks within the heart of the chain. "We will accomplish nothing sitting here gaping. Are you prepared to go on, Huma?" Huma blinked. "Yes. I guess we might as well. Kaz?"

The minotaur gazed up at the peaks—and finally smiled. "I am quite familiar with such landscape, my friend. I have no qualms."

"We will wait here for you for three days, just as a precaution," Buoron said. Magius sniffed and looked disdainfully away. "It is not necessary."

"Nevertheless, we will. What you say matters not."

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"Let us go, then," Huma quickly put in. He had a great desire to get this over and done with—if that were possible.

"Agreed." Magius urged his horse forward.

"Huma," Buoron said somberly, and held out a hand. His face was much like the mountains before them—hard-featured, but still admirable in its own way. "May Paladine watch over you."

"And you as well."

The other knights nodded their farewells as Huma passed. Huma did not look back as he rode, afraid that the desire to turn back from what might well be a foolish quest would ensnare him. Yet he showed no sign of fear to Magius or Kaz. A knight such as Bennett would have ridden into the mountains prepared to face the Dragonqueen herself, if need be. Huma knew he could never do that, but he would do his best to ride with dignity. All too soon they entered the mountain range. The peaks stood all around them, fantastic walls and barriers that seemed ready—waiting?—to close in and wipe out all trace of the tiny creatures who had dared to infest them.

"Mountains such as these have always made me realize how an insect must feel," Kaz commented.

Ahead of them, Magius laughed scornfully. "These are mere lumps of rock. Impressive at first, but no more deserving of such reverence than the tiniest pebble on the beach."

"You have never truly known the mountains, then. Be careful, lest they bury you beneath their insignificance."

A cry rose from somewhere within the range of mountains. It was a harsh, predatory cry, and all three riders glanced around quickly.

As the seconds passed and nothing materialized, Kaz turned to Magius. "What was that? Are you familiar with the sound?"

The mage had regained his composure, as well as his arrogance. "A bird, perhaps. Possibly even a dragon. It would not surprise me to discover that the latter live here."

"Here?" Huma had sudden visions of great red dragons swooping down on the hapless group. Magius might be able to hold them off temporarily, but neither Kaz nor Huma would have much of a chance. A broadsword was of little use against the armored hide of a dragon. The trail was a twisting series of slopes, ledges, and precarious turns. Buoron had said that dwarves, long since departed from this region, had created the path, the only one that granted travelers some hope of emerging on the opposite side. The knights traveled the mountains as little as possible, not because they were afraid but because they knew that even the few brigands of the region steered clear of the chain.

The wind whipped Huma's cloak wildly around, and he was forced at last to pin it around him. The chill wind created eerie sounds, like the calling of strange, unimaginable beasts. Magius still had the lead, since he was the only one with any real idea where he was going. Huma was searching for a peak that matched the one on the tapestry, while Kaz was content merely to ride and let the others do the work. He cared little about what the magicuser was searching for. His own health, and Huma's, was all that truly mattered. The Red Robe could perish for all Kaz cared.

They rode around yet another turn and—came to a dead stop. Magius sputtered curses. Kaz laughed, despite the sinister look in the spellcaster's eyes. The path lay buried beneath tons of rubble. Huma looked up and saw a new crevice in the side of one of the mountains. He tried to imagine the power required to create such a landslide.

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"I'll not be cheated!" Magius stood in the saddle, crying out at the mountains. He whirled on the other two and said, "There were two diverging paths a short distance behind us. See if either curls back toward this one. I'll see if there is anything that can be done here." The minotaur did not care to take orders from Magius, but Huma quieted him. It would not do for Kaz to cross the mage now.

While the spellcaster investigated the avalanche, Huma and Kaz rode back. The paths that Magius had spoken about seemed fairly unused, and one had even been obscured by the fragile shrubbery prevalent in the mountain chain. Huma chose the overgrown trail. Kaz broke off to investigate the other path. Huma watched him disappear, then he climbed off his horse. The footing on the path was too tricky, and he had no desire to endanger himself and his horse. Better to leave the animal behind. If the path proved steadier ahead, he would return for the horse and investigate further.

It required the use of his broadsword to clear the path of foliage. Although the individual plants were weak, they grew in such profusion that it was like cutting into thick bales of hay. Huma was forced to chop continuously for several minutes before he made progress.

First glance indicated that the path continued a rocky, upward climb that made riding impossible and walking a slow, dragging tedium.

Suddenly, he stepped onto a gentle downward slope partly hidden by the vegetation. Huma smiled in relief. This path seemed to circle around to meet up with the original path beyond the avalanche. After a lengthy inspection, he finally concluded that the path was not only passable but that it would lead them more directly to the peaks Magius sought. It was also, he was pleased to note, a much less windblown path. The knight turned back, increasing his pace. By this time, he was sure that Kaz had completed his own search. He doubted also that Magius would have found a way around the avalanche in the meantime. Huma's path looked to be the best—and perhaps the only—choice.

He came to the meeting of the two slopes and stumbled back onto the rocky part of the trail. Huma turned a corner—and stopped dead before a great wall of rock. "What—?" he muttered, his brow raised in wonder. He looked up the length of the formation and laid a hand on its surface. It was all too real. He had to have taken a wrong turn, he realized. Huma backtracked, and stood in puzzlement. Every indication was that he had followed the correct path the first time. Yet the rock formation looked as though it had been in place for years. Moss dotted its surface. The formation was quite weathered, almost round on top.

Finally, Huma gave up and returned to the other intersection he had discovered. Despite the feeling that this was the wrong route, he began to follow it. As he progressed, his confidence rose, for the trail seemed to lead back to where he wished to be. Then it abruptly curved toward the opposite direction. Soon, Huma was following a trail of twists and turns that kept his head spinning. The knight came to a halt. This path was leading him farther away. He grumbled to himself and then turned around to retrace his trail. The path he had traveled, which he knew should have twisted to the right, now twisted to the left.

This was all wrong. Huma knew he could have made a mistake before, but not this time; he'd been especially cautious, painstakingly noting the way. Buoron and others had said many travelers never left these mountains; now he could see why. It was as if the mountains themselves moved against the unwary, although Huma knew it must really be the work of a mortal entity. His thoughts turned to Galan Dracos, but this did not seem to fit the renegade's style. He was being herded, he realized; Dracos would have captured him by now. No, this was magic with another purpose.

His sword unsheathed, Huma began following the only available path. 87

There was nothing out of the ordinary, just rocks, scraggly bushes, and a high-flying bird now and then.

The path suddenly split off into two directions. Huma paused, suspecting that he really had only one choice. But which?

He pondered for some time before he noticed the tap-tap beat coming from behind him. Huma whirled, his blade up and ready. He had been expecting an ogre or perhaps one of the Black Guard; instead, he found himself facing a hooded figure sitting on a large, flat rock. The tap-tap came from a staff much like Magius's, and it was Held by a gray, gloved hand partially covered by the sleeve of a cloak. The gray cloak, in turn, covered most of the form of a—Huma stepped closer to be sure—a gray-faced man.

The gray man stroked his long, gray beard and smiled almost imperceptively at the knight.

Huma lowered the blade—but not all the way. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Who are you?" the gray man rejoined.

The knight frowned but decided to play the game for now. "I am Huma, Knight of the Order of the Crown."

"A Knight of Solamnia." The dull-colored figure spoke as if he had known it all along. The staff went tap-tap.

"I've answered your question; now answer mine."

"I?" The gray man smiled, revealing gray teeth. "I am merely a fellow traveler." Huma indicated the area around them. "This is not your doing?"

'The mountains? Oh, no. They've been here for a long time, I understand."

"I meant the paths that vanish." The other's eccentric attitude irritated Huma.

"I do not move mountains. It is quite possible that you are just not seeing well enough with your eyes." The figure on the rock blended perfectly into the background. Huma found that to look away even for a moment meant he had to look carefully to find the man again. No doubt, the gray man had been sitting on the rock when Huma came through moments earlier. The knight had never seen him.

"Are you a magic-user?" Huma queried.

The tap-tap of the staff ceased for the moment. "Now that is an interesting question." The tapping resumed.

"Well?" Huma was fighting for control.

The gray man seemed to think for a moment. Then he pointed the staff toward the two paths behind Huma and asked, "Were you not choosing a path? You should get on with it, you know. You might be going somewhere important."

"Very well. Which one would you choose?" Huma held his breath, wondering if he was going to receive an answer that made some sense.

After further consultation with himself, the slate-colored man pointed the staff at the path to the left. "That one has been proved to be quite popular."

'Thank you." Huma stalked off toward the chosen path. He wanted nothing more to do with gray men and paths that came and went. The sooner he was away—

"Of course," the odd figure added, "Others have found the right path to be the right path."

Huma stopped. He turned and stared coldly at the gray man. "Which would you choose?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

The knight studied the two paths. From where he stood, they looked identical. He could not make a choice based on appearances. He would have to go with his instincts. Purposefully, Huma stepped over to the trail on the right and began walking. He did not look back, even when the familiar tap-tap picked up again. 88

The parting comment, though, did cause him to pause momentarily.

"An interesting choice."

The tapping ceased. Huma, despite himself, turned around.

The path—and the gray man—had disappeared. In their place stood a tall, angling peak.

Huma trudged along the winding trail for hours. He noted that the sun was already low in the sky, which meant that he had been separated from the others a good part of the day. Calling out had proved futile.

The wind had picked up. Huma drew his cloak around him, daring to sheath his sword so he could pull the garment tighter. He wondered how cold it got in these mountains and then decided it would be best not to think about it.

Where were Magius and Kaz? He hoped the minotaur and the magic-user would not kill one another now that Huma was not there to keep both under rein. His stomach stirred in hunger again, prompting a vague twinge of guilt. Fasting was a rite of purification for the knighthood. A few hours should not have affected him. A few berries dotted the bushes he passed, but previous experiments had proved them to be inedible and possibly even poisonous. He had seen no sign of animal life and had heard none, save the occasional cry of whatever creature waited out there. A great bird, perhaps. What did it eat, then? Unwary and foolish travelers?

Evening finally fell, and Huma waited for a sign from Magius. Neither light nor sound came through the darkness, however. Huma was still on his own when night had grown to maturity.

The night was bright, for a change. Somehow, the stars always seemed to shine through the cloud cover where the sun could not. Perhaps most encouraging, Solinari was at last ascendant. The god of the White Robes now watched over the world, and although Magius wore the robes of crimson Huma hoped that Solinari would watch over his friend as well.

Huma finally paused for the night, tired and confused, determined to go on once morning came. He crawled under an overhang in a fairly level spot and wrapped his cloak around him; a fire was out of the question. Huma had survived worse, but hunger pangs continued to irritate him, even as he drifted away into sleep. Huma stirred. A sound, like the flapping of mighty wings, had pulled him from his slumber. Peering from his shelter, he saw nothing but the night and decided it was only a rockfall or the wind. He was soon back to sleep.

From behind a far outcropping, two gleaming, blood-red eyes peered sightlessly at the unsuspecting figure. The dreadwolf was set to watch only, not to kill—not this time. Yet the slumbering human made a satisfactory target, and of the abomination began to slink forward, yellowed teeth bared. It readied itself to leap—and a monstrous claw slashed out and crushed it beyond the undead thing's ability to regenerate. Not a sound broke the night stillness. Huma stirred again but did not awaken.

The dawn brought with it the feeling that he was not alone.

Huma scanned the surrounding area. All remained as it had been the day before, save that the weather had grown a little warmer. Hunger still touched him, but he was beginning to gain control over it—or perhaps he had passed that point when it mattered. He dared call out to his companions. The wind was weaker, and Huma thought that this time he might be heard. If that meant facing the creature that cried out yesterday, so be it. There was no response to his shouts, either from the mage and minotaur or from the nameless creature. Huma gave up shouting and renewed his walk down the odd path. He no longer cared whether he could even retrace his steps.

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To his surprise and pleasure, the trail became smoother and simpler to follow. And food was available—berries from a new type of bush. When they proved to be palatable, he began devouring all he could find. Of course, any poison might be slow in acting, but Huma recognized these plants. He decided that whatever had created the path wanted him alive for the time being.

At last, when he began to believe the path would go on forever, the trail stopped before a shining pool of water surrounded by fruit-bearing trees and a garden. Thirsty, he hurried to the edge of the pool. The water could not be poisonous if such life surrounded it, and Huma leaned down and scooped up a handful. The moisture trickled down his chin as he drank. Not satisfied with that, he knelt and bent forward to sip from the pool itself. A dragon's face stared up from the water.

He jumped away from the water's edge and realized that the dragon's face had been a reflection. He looked up with rapidly widening eyes. Huma had reached his destination. A great stone dragon, six times his size, flanked the pool, and Huma saw that it had once had a counterpart on the opposite end. Only the pedestal and part of the head remained of the second dragon. Both appeared to have been carved out of marble or some similar stone. The one still standing appeared to be a silver dragon, while the fragmented one had been a gold dragon.

Huma drank his fill. When he had finished, he looked straight ahead and noticed a doorway hidden by the tangle of plant life and literally cut into the mountain itself. He moved closer and studied the doorway. Tiny figures had been carved in relief around the opening, most of them weathered away. Some, protected by the heavy covering of plant growth, perhaps, were still quite recognizable—at least as definite shapes. Huma wished desperately to know what the symbols might mean.

Pushing aside thick vines, he peered inside. It should have been dark inside, yet he could see a faint glow within. Almost as if someone had lit torches to guide his way, he thought uneasily.

Sighing in resignation, he stepped into the entrance of the mountain, expecting the cavelike entryway to be damp and moldy. Instead, it was as if he had stepped into the council chamber of Vingaard Keep. The entrance was warm and dry, and the walls and ceiling were smooth.

It took him some time to travel the length of the stark hallway, his attention concentrated on the flickering light ahead. He completed the final stretch of the corridor. Belatedly, he remembered his sword and removed the weapon from its sheath. The corridor opened into a great hall, once the court of some great king or emperor, Huma decided. It stretched high; it was a natural cavern carved to perfection. The light was indeed from torches, and Huma wondered who had lit them.

Metallic statues of armored knights lined each wail. They were lifeless—and very lifelike. They could almost be sentries commanded to sleep until needed—or the undead ordered to slay any who intruded.

Huma stepped into the center of the room and stared at the floor. Now he could see the pattern etched into the stone. It, above all else, gave him heart, for it was a huge representation of Paladine himself, the Platinum Dragon. The dragon curled from one end of the room to the other and, if the knight was any judge, the pattern was indeed made of platinum. Huma marveled over the intricate work.

His gaze roved to the single piece of furniture in this cavern—a high throne, carved from wood such as Huma had never seen, wood that seemed to glow with life. The edges of the throne were encrusted with jewels, and these, too, gleamed from the light of the torches. 90

Childlike wonder swept over him as he walked around the chamber. The armor, he noted, included many of the various types worn by the knighthood over the ages. He opened more than one visor and peered inside, finding nothing but dust.

At last, he simply stood and gave thanks to Paladine for allowing him to proceed this far. He also prayed that the Triumvirate would watch over his two companions, despite their differences. Then he knelt in reverence before the throne.

His vigil, though, was interrupted almost before it began. A pounding sound, as of metal upon metal, resounded from one of the darkened corridors. Huma came to his feet and peered around, trying to discern from which of the corridors the sound originated. The pounding died even as he stood, and Huma was unable to fathom its direction. Huma remembered where he had heard a sound like that before—back at Vingaard Keep.

It was the sound a heavy hammer made when beating hot metal into shape at a forge.

CHAPTER 16

A forge. Huma wondered what that might mean. He had expected any of a number of things here, but not an active smithy. For that matter, who held that hammer? Ghosts of ages past? Perhaps the dwarves had not left this place after all.

His eyes turned back toward the throne, and he discovered that he was no longer alone. Huma's first thought was that the gray man had returned, for the robe and hood, which covered all identity, were indeed dun-colored. But this new visitor was much more slight.

"You have come." Her voice was low and the cloak almost muffled it, but it was indeed a female voice. Small, feminine hands emerged from the billowing sleeves of the cloak, and the woman reached up to take hold of the hood. Slowly, she pulled it back, revealing long, thick, flowing hair and a face that both thrilled and shocked the knight, for he had known it and longed for it.

"Gwyneth."

She smiled. "I had thought perhaps you had forgotten me."

"Never."

The smile widened, then vanished abruptly. "I knew it would be you. When I first laid eyes on you in the—lying there, battling a mind-killing wound. Yes, your wound was far worse than you know. No bones had been broken, but your mind . . . Had not healers taken care of you as quickly as they did, you would have lost all senses permanently."

"Paladine," he breathed. To be struck deaf, dumb, and blind—or worse. "Gwyneth. What is this place?"

"Call it a gift of love. It was built by those with great love for Paladine and his house. They wanted nothing in return. It was magnificent in its day." She had a disconcerting way of talking as if she had actually been here in the past, Huma thought.

"Is this what Magius sought?"

"In a sense. Your friend is still a good man, Huma, despite his obsession. It may still consume him. Whether he believes it or not, the future he faced during his Test was nothing more than an intricate fabrication. The Tests are designed to highlight one's greatest weaknesses, and I fear that he did not pass as easily as the Conclave hoped."

'Then all of this has nothing to do with what he said."

Gwyneth looked surprised. "Oh, but it does! The idea of this place has been passed to man for centuries, ever since the first war with the Dragonqueen. It has not changed much. The Conclave knew the ego of their student, Magius. The greatest fault of your childhood 91

companion is that, like the elves, he sees himself as the power to save the world. What better way of testing him than to make him fail at the greatest of all tasks." Huma was silent as his mind digested this. Finally, he asked, "What of me? Magius seemed to think I am important to changing his future."

"You are important, but not in the way he thinks. What has been sought so long is a single man or woman who embodies all that Paladine has attempted to teach this world. Some have come close, but all failed in the end." As his eyes widened, she nodded sadly. "You are not the first to come here, Huma. I pray—oh Paladine, I pray—that you are the one sought. Were it not Krynn itself that would suffer, I would tell you to turn from here now, before it is too late."

The knight stiffened. "Even if you told me to, I would not. I cannot. Not—and remain what I am."

"Is the knighthood so much to you?"

"Not the knighthood. What it teaches." He had never thought of it in those terms before.

Gwyneth looked pleased, but merely said, "If only there were others like you, even in the knighthood."

"Gwyneth, where are Kaz and Magius?"

'They will be watched. Have no fear, Huma." She paused. "It is time to start, I think."

"Start?" Huma looked around, half-expecting the room to fill with clerics and mages ready to perform some ceremony. Instead, Gwyneth stepped down from the throne and moved toward him. Although dressed simply and without expression on her face, she looked more beautiful than he had ever thought possible. Buoron's nymph paled in comparison. She wavered only momentarily under his gaze. Huma tried fruitlessly to understand what was revealed in that lapse. When Gwyneth was no more than an arm's length from him, she pointed at the darkened corridors.

"You may choose whichever one you wish."

"What happens then?"

"You walk it. What happens next is up to you. I can only tell you that you must face three challenges. It is said that each member of the Triumvirate created part of the challenges, although no challenge represents one god, just as a man is the sum of his parts, not separate qualities that exist independent of one another."

Huma studied each of the corridors for a long time. If he was to proceed, he would have to trust in Paladine and hope to make the right choice.

He took a step toward his choice, but Gwyneth caught his arm. "Wait." She kissed him lightly. "May Paladine watch over you. I do not want you to fail." He could think of nothing adequate to say, so Huma quickly turned away and moved toward the corridor he had chosen. He knew that if he looked back and she was still there, he might be tempted to stay. He also knew that if he stayed, he would never be able to live with himself.

The corridor he picked was like a natural cave. In spots, the passage constricted, forcing him to duck or move sideways. It was also very, very long, and nearly plunged in blackness. Soon the passage began to glow with a light of its own, a light that came from the very walls. Huma paused to study this phenomenon. He had heard tales of this sort of light. The walls' glow gave Huma an idea. He knocked a piece of rock loose with the hilt of his sword and put it, still glowing, in his belt pouch.

An ear-splitting, earth-shaking cry tossed him to the ground. Rock fragments covered him.

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It was the same cry Huma had heard in the pass. He now knew its source—straight ahead. And straight ahead was the only way left to Huma, for, as the trail had done, the corridor behind him revealed nothing but a stone wall.

Sword and shield ready, he crept down the tunnel toward the sound. He stepped from that corridor—into yet another. This one broke off into three directions, any of which the thing might occupy. Huma straightened in nervous annoyance. The cry was echoing through the cavern system; the creature might be anywhere. It might be hours away in some deeper chamber. It might even be right behind him. That thought on his mind, he shifted his feet—and did not meet solid ground. With a metal-rattling clang, Huma went down.

Huma cleared his head with a shake and looked at the thin pool of dark liquid that had made him slip. He put a finger in it and brought the sample close in order to study it better. For such a small puddle, it stank terribly. To his horror, Huma noticed the substance was eating into his metal glove. He wiped the foul stuff on the rock, which seemed much more resistant to the liquid.

"Heeeehhh."

It seemed like laughter, evil laughter, at first. Huma clambered to his feet, but he still could not tell from which of the three tunnels the noise had come. And as it repeated, he knew the sound was not laughter.

It was breathing.

Something incredibly large, unless the chambers amplified sound, lurked nearby. While it might prove safer to remain anchored in this one location, Huma had no desire to do so. He chose the center corridor and hurried down it. Physically, it was identical to the last one. Huma wondered how such an obviously large creature could make its way through some of these narrow confines. Even Huma had his difficulties.

This tunnel led him to another tunnel, which looked exactly like the two before it. The caverns made up a maze, with Huma as both contestant and prize in some subterranean game of peril.

As he walked, he noticed the dark liquid that flowed under his feet and the heat that emanated from several corridors. There was a sulfurous smell to the heat, which, Huma believed, pointed to a conduit to the mountain's fiery heart. Huma had heard of mountains such as this and prayed that this one would not erupt while he was within it.

"Hhhhheeeeehhhh."

Huma flattened himself around a corner. Echo or not, he knew now that he and the other were mere minutes apart. The other also apparently knew, for he chuckled madly—

most definitely madly. When the laughter died, the other spoke in slow, deep tones.

"Manling. I smell you, manling. I smell the warmth of your body, the bitter chill of your metal armor. I smell your fears."

Huma said nothing, but he fell back silently to the corridor from which he had entered. He did not want to face something as large as this tunnel-dweller unless he could find a place, where he could maneuver.

"Come to Wyrmfather, manling. Let me show you my strength." Wyrmfather's hearing was obviously quite extraordinary, for the beast hissed loudly whenever Huma moved and the knight could hear the scraping of a large form against the sides of a tunnel.

Huma moved down an open corridor, circling Wyrmfather—he hoped. The hissing seemed to come from all around him. The corridors appeared endless. 93

The hissing abruptly halted, and Huma froze. There was silence for several minutes, save for the maddening beat of the knight's heart. Then the scraping sound echoed again as Wyrmfather seemed to move away from Huma.

He realized that the relative smoothness of the tunnel walls was the result of continual wearing away by the body of his pursuer.

The coarse, scraping sound died away while Huma pondered. Quietly, he made his way farther along the tunnel. If he could only find his way out of this maze—

Wild laughter—and the passageway exploded into flame!

Huma had no choice now but to run. Wyrmfather knew where he was. Huma abandoned stealth and simply fled in the direction of the nearest corridor. Another burst of fire sent him scurrying out of that passage. How could Wyrmfather move so swiftly? What was Wyrmfather?

He would not count how many passageways he ran through or how many times the laughter of the tunnel dweller warned him just before more searing flame licked at his mustache.

Running frantically, Huma did not at first notice the wide opening to his left. It was not until he had passed it that the knight realized he had come across something other than a corridor. Huma came to an immediate halt and froze.

The malevolent hiss of Wyrmfather was far away for the moment, although Huma knew that could easily change at any second. Cautiously, the knight edged back to the side passage and then leaned forward enough so that he could peer into it. It was a very short corridor, ending in what appeared to be more of a cavern. Huma stepped around into the new passageway and walked slowly down it. The cavern loomed large. It appeared to have been honed the same way as the corridors—by the constant wear of some huge form against the rock itself. But where was the leviathan itself? Where was Wyrmfather? Huma glanced around the cavern. Tunnel entrances dotted it on various levels. The knight's sharp gaze followed the contours of the floor. It was smooth enough to walk on, although the slopes became steep in a few places, especially where it suddenly rose—

Huma mentally cursed his predicament and stepped back into the corridor. What he had seen, what he wished desperately to deny, was a massive serpentlike form that rose through the bottom of the cavern, like some cursed tree, and turned abruptly to the side, continuing on through one of the farther tunnels.

Here at last he beheld a portion of Wyrmfather.

The malevolent creature pulsated with life as it stretched from that gaping chasm in the center. All that was visible was a trunk whose reptilian diameter was twice Huma's height. Its otherwise dull-gray body was covered with splotches of green and blue, as if it were infected.

The trunk suddenly descended into the chasm. The terrible head of Wyrmfather emerged from the other passage, shocking Huma with a startling revelation. Wyrmfather was a dragon.

The leviathan dwarfed all dragons that Huma had ever seen or heard of. Wyrmfather's maw could easily have snapped up a team of horses in two bites, a single man in much less. The long, wide teeth stretched nearly as high as Huma and the sinewy, forked tongue that flickered in and out of Wyrmfather's jaws could easily envelope him. The smell of sulfur was everywhere, and Huma realized that the mountain peak did not have an active heart. The dragon caused the smell.

Huma froze as the ponderous head of the dragon turned his way. There was something odd about the head. It seemed larger in proportion to the thickness of the neck, which in turn was far too long for any dragon that Huma could recall.

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Recognition made the knight gasp. Wyrmfather was the dragon after which the statuette in Magius's citadel had been patterned. Yet the statuette had to have been ancient even by elven standards. Could any dragon live that long?

Wyrmfather hissed. Its head was turned so that it could not possibly have missed the knight, yet the deadly beast continued to scan the cavern. It was only when Huma looked at the eyes that he knew why; a whitish film covered each. Wyrmfather was blind. The creature was not deaf, though, and most certainly had a keen sense of smell. It had passed up the knight once; Huma doubted it would do so again. Even now, the lengthy snout seemed to be investigating some of the areas it had already passed. Unless Wyrmfather poked its head back into one of the corridors, the dragon would find Huma momentarily. As if thinking the same thoughts, Wyrmfather spoke. The creature's words made the immense chamber tremble. "A tricky one. I am pleased. It has been so long since I had even the slightest challenge. The others were so easy."

The head swung near Huma. Gaping nostrils flared as the mighty dragon sniffed for the scent of the knight.

"I smell the taint of Paladine on you. Of Habbakuk. Of the most cursed of all the gods of light, my jailer, the damned Kiri-Jolith!"

Huma did not move, did not breath during this outburst. The leviathan had spoken of an encounter with at least one of the gods responsible for the creation of the knighthood. An encounter that had left the dragon quite the worse off, it seemed.

"Are you here for my treasure? It is the greatest horde that any dragon could ever gather. Even trapped as I am, I have ways of gathering it. Ah!" The massive jaws bent into a macabre, reptilian grin. "Perhaps it is the mirror you seek! Yes, the mirror would be worth all else I have!"

All the while it spoke, Wyrmfather sniffed around the cavernous chamber, seeking out Huma.

A sound of metal striking metal rang through the chamber. Huma reacted instinctively, covering his ears as the noise pounded at his mind. It was the forge again. The hammer at the forge.

If the hammering disturbed Huma, it enraged Wyrmfather to madness. The dragon added to the noise with shrieks of its own. Curses, crying, threats. All matter of words rushed from its mouth. Froth dripped from its maw.

"My queen! Why do you let them torment me? Have I not endured countless millenia gone to dust? Must I suffer yet more of the ceaseless hammering and hammering of that cursed smith! Have you forsaken me, great Takhisis?"

Across the chamber, a corridor glowed brighter than the others. Wyrmfather had spoken of its horde and how even here it had been able to seek out treasure. Might there not be something of use in such a horde? A weapon, perhaps, more deadly than Huma's own seemingly insignificant sword? It was, to be sure, a desperate measure. Even as the beast renewed its shouts, Huma was running.

The clatter of his boots on the rocky floor alerted Wyrmfather, but the hammering prevented the dragon from pinpointing the tiny human figure, hi anger, the dragon roared and unleashed random bursts of searing flame.

Huma dove into the corridor. The dragon had mentioned a mirror of some great importance. Huma remembered the mirror of the nymph, the one she had used to gaze at the dreams of others. Might they be related? Hers, though, had only been a way of capturing others' dreams. This one had other properties, perhaps.

Still Wyrmfather ranted and raved at the sound of the hammer.

Huma made his way down the corridor, fearing that he had erred. All he might find were gold and jewels, useless at the moment. There might be nothing. 95

Huma fell, and his eyes caught a horrible, momentary glimpse of what he had tripped over. A battered skull grinned at him, while a disjointed arm pointed at him in mockery. The crumpled remains of armor wrapped much of the body's frame. Huma succeeded in rolling with the fall, though the collision unsettled him.

Huma stood and stared sadly at the partial skeleton. It was very old, and the armor was nearly all rust. There were some visible markings, though, and Huma, in horrid fascination, wiped dust from the breastplate and beheld the insignia of a Knight of the Rose. A prayer instinctively jumped to his lips. Here was a knight who had made it this far, only to perish.

To perish.

As Huma might.

Even as the thought came unbidden, he realized the new danger. The hammering had stopped as abruptly as it had started. Huma took a few steps forward, almost without realizing it, and nearly stumbled onto an immense pile of valuables.

There were coins aplenty, gold and silver, more than Huma had ever seen. They glittered, almost entrancing him. Mixed in with them was a variety of rare items, many bejeweled, all of them fascinating. Necklaces of large, perfect pearls. Small figurines of some crystalline design, perhaps formed from emeralds or jade. Armor that might have been forged only yesterday, some so elaborate that it must have been created for mighty emperors, who could afford the craftsmanship and extravagant decorations. There were even weapons, although most were useless, having been designed more for style and expense than for use. He quickly surveyed the room, his heart racing. All this before him, when he would have gladly traded it for a single weapon capable of defeating the huge cavern dweller.

"Where have you run, manling?"

Huma stiffened. Wyrmfather was very close by. Any second, the corridor might become filled with flame.

"The smith has abandoned you, Knight of Solamnia! Yes, I know you now. I can smell the taint of the Three in you, stronger than ever before. You are a Knight of Solamnia, a true believer, unlike those before. They thought they believed, but they only pretended. You, though, are different. I wonder what you will taste like?" Rusted battle axes. Jeweled swords fit only for ceremony. This could not be the vast horde the dragon had spoken about—unless, in its madness, Wyrmfather had dreamed up its treasures.

The mirror, too?

"I have you now!"

Huma could hear the slithering and scraping as the massive head wormed its way into the corridor. He whirled and realized that the relatively meager horde of gold and jewels was only overflow from another chamber. He reached into the uppermost part of the mound of valuables and began digging. Sure enough, within a few seconds, the digging revealed an opening. It was only a small opening, so far, and it grew slowly as he continued to labor, each second expecting to feel the blistering heat of Wyrmfather's breath on his back. The effort was tiring. The continuous wedge of valuables made an effective blockade. Huma cursed silently as more coins and odd artifacts flowed to replace those he had removed. The knight took a deep breath. Digging was not good enough. As he cleared a tangle of jewels from the gap, he began crawling forward like a mole.

He had already burrowed deep into the pile when he felt the hot, fetid breath of the dragon. Wyrmfather could not use its flame here, lest it destroy its own treasure; thus the dragon was twisting its head and neck all the way to the entrance of the chamber of treasures. The leviathan’s head came around the corner—just in time to hear the knight vanish into the other chamber. Wyrmfather paused. After a moment, the huge reptilian lips curled 96

into a malevolent smile and the great dragon began the process of removing itself from the chamber.

All was dark at first, strange after so many corridors filled with their own light. Huma wondered why this one was different.

Unable to see, he crawled awkwardly through the immense collection of treasures. Here must certainly be the main horde, but how was he to find anything in the dark? Was there anything to find? Somehow, he felt there must be. If this was a test, there must be some way of defeating the dragon.

His hand brushed against what felt like a sword hilt—and the room was suddenly lit by a dull, greenish glow. Huma jerked his hand away in surprise. He had hoped; he had prayed. Now, at last, he had found the very thing. Only .. . only he feared to touch it, for some reason. As if something instinctively warned him not to.

Grasp me. Wield me. Use me. I will be your will come to life.

The words rang clear in his mind, clear, sweet, seductive words. They came from within the sword itself.

CHAPTER 17

Huma’s hand hesitated mere inches from the sword.

The glow persisted, but there was no repetition of the words.

The blade was impressive. The hilt was brilliantly bejeweled, including one massive green stone that seemed to be the source of the glow. A bell protected the user's hand. The blade itself was as sharp as if newly made. Huma's desire to touch it became almost undeniable. With the sword, he was sure that not even Wyrmfather could best him Wyrmfather! The spell was broken as Huma remembered the dragon. With the sword—no! The knight recoiled from it. He could not say how he knew, but the sword was malevolent. It did not seek his companionship; it sought a slave to do its bidding. As he turned away from the blade, the light reflected off a polished surface in one corner. Huma scampered over the jewels and coins to get a better look at the object. It was as he hoped. An elaborate mirror, twice his size. The mirror of which Wyrmfather had spoken. Huma recalled the sightless eyes of the cavern dweller and wondered how a blind dragon used a mirror. It was evident that Wyrmfather had gathered his treasures over the centuries.

Mirrors. This was the third. One was owned by the nymph. Another hung in the citadel of Magius. All magical. Had they all been made by the same person? He doubted he would ever know.

"Manling, I would speak with you."

Huma started as the voice of Wyrmfather filled the room. The chamber suddenly was filled with brilliant light, and Huma cursed himself for not realizing his mistake. There were no other entrances to this chamber because the entrance was the ceiling! Even now, the ancient dragon was tugging away the huge slab of rock that served as the lid on his house-size treasure chest. Huma scanned the endless mounds of booty, seeking something and finding that his eyes always returned to the sinister emerald blade.

"Manling." Wyrmfather sniffed and a great smile lit its terrible face, 'The smell of riches is intoxicating, is it not?"

Huma was positive he could cover the distance to the sword in ten seconds. Would he have that much time?

"It is futile to hide, manling. I can smell you out. I can lay waste to this chamber. Yet I do not have to kill you. There might be another way."

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Huma edged toward the sword. Wyrmfather's massive head turned at the sound.

"A bargain, Knight of Solamnia? A task for me in exchange for one of my treasures?

Surely, I have gathered a few things your brethren have lost over the years." Huma remembered the ancient remains wearing the battered crest of a Knight of the Rose. Had Wyrmfather made the same offer to him? Had he been choosing his prize when the dragon overtook him?

Loose coins slid under Huma's foot, and the dragon's head suddenly blocked his path. Huma readied his sword, eyeing with regret the other one so near to him. So close!

Wyrmfather sniffed. "A Solamnic Knight, indeed! The game of hide-and-seek is at an end, manling! Do you accept my offer—" The massive jaws worked into a smile again, "—or shall we see what other arrangement can be made?'

"What do you want?"

The leviathan's ears perked up. "Ahhhl He does speak! It has been, by my estimate, nearly three hundred years since an intruder has dared to speak to me directly for reasons other than pleading! Even your voice pleases me after all this!"

"I'm glad," Huma said. He could not think of anything else to say. The ensuing chuckle forced him to cover his ears. "A brave one, mauling! I like you. What do you say to my offer?"

"I am willing to hear it."

"A truly brave one! Hear me, then, manling!" The great beast raised its head high. "I am Wyrmfather, first and greatest of my dread lady's children, first to rise at her call! I championed her cause against the hideous gods of light and their creeping toadies, and ever emerged triumphant! So great and fearful was my power that at last Kiri-Jolith himself was forced to fight me—and did so with dread, I tell you!

"We fought for over a year. Mountains were born, brought flat, and reborn. The land quaked with our struggle, the seas whipped high. At last, I erred and Kiri-Jolith defeated me. Victory was not enough, though! From the shattered earth he drew this mountain about me, enclosing me from the joyous sky! I would, he said, remain a part of this mountain. Even the slightest breeze would not reach me. Only, he mocked, only one of his own brethren would be able to release me! Only one such as he could set me free!" The blind eyes stared meaningfully at Huma, who was beginning to understand what the dragon was leading to.

"For a long time, I believed he meant one of his fellow gods, and I raged and roared. Then I came to understand the trickery in his words. A god was not what he meant. A warrior, straight and true in the path, could do what I could not, and are not the Knights of Solamnia the sons of Paladine? Does that not make them brethren in spirit to Kiri-Jolith?" Huma stared at the gleaming sword buried deep in the mound of jewels and coins. In him there was a yearning so strong that he nearly ran to it. But suddenly the terrible visage of Wyrmfather was again before him. The hot, sulfurous breath stung the knight's eyes.

"Free me, Knight of Solamnia, and anything here is yours! Even the mirror, which served me so well before the darkness came!"

The mirror. Huma looked at it. If he could learn its secrets . . . His own bluster amazed him. "How does it work? I might consider, then."

"You must think of a place you wish to go and then ask— No! Release me first!" The very mountain trembled as Wyrmfather went into another berserk rage. The hammering began anew—louder, if at all possible.

Wyrmfather raised its massive head and shrieked, "I will not be cheated again!" Huma ran for the sword. The maddened dragon lashed out in anger. The massive jaws opened wide, and the long, draping, forked tongue whipped out. Wyrmfather meant to make a morsel out of the tiny human.

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Huma's hand closed around the hilt of the sword. It burned in his grip, even through his gauntlets. Despite the pain, he pulled the sword free and held it high, moving through sheer reflex and skill.

Wyrmfather's jaws closed down on Huma, swallowing countless treasures in the process. For a moment, Huma vanished into the maw of the titan. With a rock-shattering cry of pain, the ancient leviathan spasmed. Gold, silver, statuary, jewels, and a badly battered Huma fell from his jaws. The knight hit one of the piles below, sending shockwaves through his right arm.

Above, Wyrmfather shook its head back and forth, trying to dislodge the sword it had forced into its own head. It was a futile effort; the body was already reacting by reflex. The brain of the dragon was dead, the green blade having cut through all barriers protecting it. The dragon's actions only served to drive the blade deeper.

Huma rose to his feet just as the massive head began its final descent. Even in death, Wyrmfather could spell the end of Huma. The knight scrambled.

The massive skull struck the ground precipitously close to Huma. The knight—along with nearly a king's ransom in valuables—was flung forward, his last thoughts of Solamnia. His body struck the mirror—

—and landed in the muck and mire of a rain-soaked wasteland.

His first frantic thoughts were for the sword. It had remained jammed in the dying dragon's jaws. Huma had to retrieve it.

How? He surveyed his surroundings—and reeled in shock. This was Solamnia! Very near Vingaard Keep. Huma sat up and put his face in his hands. He had discovered the secret of the mirror. Now he was transported far from the mountains—and his companions!

His right arm was numb and nearly useless, but he felt no broken bones. The temporary paralysis would go away after a few hours. Both he and his armor were mudcovered. He felt quickly at his waist, then gave a small sigh of relief; he still had his own sword, puny as it seemed compared to the wonderful surge of power he had felt when holding the green blade. If only . . .

A thought came to him.

It was difficult to tell direction, but by the few still-recognizable landmarks, he was certain he was south of Vingaard Keep. Had it been a brightly lit day, he knew he could have glimpsed the mighty citadel.

Ineffectually wiping the mud from his face, Huma started north. The habitations he passed would have provided little protection for a wild animal, much less a human. The wood frames were crumbling with rot. The thatched roofs could only barely be called that; there were too many holes and too little material to patch them with. The mud used to pack the stonework together had become so damp that in many places the walls had fallen completely away.

The haunted looks he saw in the faces of the emaciated survivors who peopled this poor excuse for a village sent chills through his body. What, he wondered, was the Keep doing about this situation? These people barely existed. Their homes were little more than lean-tos, and some people did not even have that. Instead, they sat in the mire and ravaged earth, and stared at the devastation around them.

He knew that the knighthood could not care for them all, but it still agonized him. Huma prayed that somehow he would gain new transportation so that he could return to the mountain and, if it was allowed, face the challenges once again. He also worried about his two companions. Were they looking for him?

Staring at the ruined land, Huma thought that the knighthood might have helped the people rebuild their villages, patrol their forests, and possibly gather or grow their own food. Instead, nothing.

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Huma stopped walking for a moment, thinking about his nearly blasphemous ideas. What would Rennard have said if he had heard him? Huma smiled slightly. Probably very little, he decided.

Several villagers stepped out to gaze at Huma with a variety of expressions—fear, respect, anger, and disgust. Five men blocked his path. Huma blinked and waited. The five did not step aside.

Their apparent leader was a tall, wide man with a foul black beard, a receding hairline, a squashed nose, and more than two hundred pounds of what had once been pure muscle. He wore the typical mud-stained pants and much-repaired tunic of a farmer. The clothing was quite insufficient for the harsh weather. The man's beefy hand gripped a smith's hammer.

"Throw down your sword, little man, and we'll not hurt you. It's your stuff we want, not you."

A thin, pasty-faced lad giggled nervously, next to the big man. The boy was nearly bald, and he had all the signs of a plague survivor, including the touch of madness. The remaining three were rather nondescript remnants of men, faces and bodies that had wasted away long ago. None of the five were true bandits. Huma prayed silently that he would not be forced to raise a hand against them.

"Are you deaf?"

"I cannot surrender you my valuables or food, if that is what you desire. I have very little."

"You have no choice." The big man swung his hammer experimentally in Huma's direction with great precision. "I thinks you're missin' the point. We take what we get." The hammer snapped up and into a striking position. Huma's blade was out, yet he was loath to use it, even on them. The choice was taken from him, though, for the brigand leader's hammer came screaming past Huma's face, narrowly missing. Five forms converged on the single knight—or tried to. Suddenly, Huma's right foot caught an attacker in the stomach. His free hand stunned the giggling lad, who thought to slip under his guard with a rusty old short sword. With the flat of his blade, Huma brought the lad to the ground, unconscious. With ease, he disarmed the watery-eyed old man. Weaponless, that one retreated quickly from the fight, leaving Huma free to take care of the two still standing, one of them the apparent leader.

Despair suffused Huma as he realized these last two were not about to yield. The one remaining swordsman fought from desperation, which added dangerous strength to his otherwise unremarkable form. The brigand leader smiled viciously as he advanced again and again.

With great sadness, Huma made his choice. Before the startled eyes of the other villagers, the Knight of the Crown broke through the swordsman's guard and thrust deep into the chest. The man gurgled something and collapsed. Even as his one opponent fell, Huma was beating back the leader with one stinging blow after another. The burly thug began swinging wildly at the knight, and Huma waited. When the opening came, as he knew it would, a single chop put an end to the last of the desperate band. Huma, his breath ragged, looked up at the spectators. They showed no emotion. He could not guess whether they were pleased or angered.

He looked around for the three survivors. Two were unconscious, and the third had run off. They would be no more trouble.

Disgusted, Huma wiped off his sword, sheathed it, and stalked north once more. He was not even out of the village before arguments flared as human vultures fought over the meager belongings of the dead thieves.

100

When he had first stood before Vingaard Keep, home of the knighthood since Vinas Solamnus had ordered its construction all those centuries ago, Huma had felt like a mote before the palace of the gods.

The feeling lessened only ever so slightly.

Vingaard Keep's walls rose to a great height. Only a few adversaries dared scale such walls. The walls surrounded the citadel and were punctuated by slits for archers. The only gap in the walls was where the massive iron gates stood guard. They were as thick as Huma's arm was long, and they could stand the full force of a dragon charge. Each of the gates was decorated with the three-part symbol of the knighthood—the majestic kingfisher, with wings half-extended, which grasped in its sharp claws a sword on which a rose was centered. Above its head was a crown.

After a long, wet wait, a sentry came in response to Huma's hoarse shouts. He peered down at the bedraggled figure clad in a mixture of Solamnic and Ergothian armor, and shouted, "Who goes there? State your name and mission!" Huma removed his helmet. "I am Huma, Knight of the Order of the Crown, returned from lands far beyond. I must speak to Lord Oswal, or even the Grand Master himself! It is urgent!"

"The Grand Master?" Huma could not see the man's face well, but the surprise in his tone was obvious. "Wait!"

Huma wondered at the strange reaction.

At last, the gates began to swing slowly open.

The same sentry who had questioned him stood by the gate. At the guard's signal, Huma followed him into the Keep. Those knights who had opened the gate wore expressions matching that of Huma's guide. The mystery deepened.

The sentry, a young Knight of the Crown, pulled Huma over to a dark corner and out of the drizzle that had developed. "I know who you are, for Master Rennard speaks highly of you in training, so I have taken this chance to warn you before you make a slip."