by Dragon Lance
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.
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.
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 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 nig
ht 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.
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 wall. 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.
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 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 w
ay 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.”
