The History of Krynn: Vol V

by Dragon Lance

  Below him, the silver dragon gave an uncharacteristic hiss of fury, and Huma suddenly found himself closing in on the mage. Oddly, Dracos only laughed as the great leviathan leapt at him, jaws wide, claws foremost.

  The jaws clamped harmlessly together.

  “Illusion,” Huma muttered.

  A mocking laugh seemed to hang in the air. The group hovered uncertainly, awaiting instructions from Huma. He continued to stare at the spot where the illusion of Galan Dracos had floated.

  Unable to stand the waiting anymore, an unidentified knight behind Huma cried, “We’ve lost!”

  “We have not lost until the last knight is dead, Derrick,” Bennett shouted at the man. He whispered to the gold dragon, who promptly moved him close enough so that he could speak to Huma without being overheard by the other riders. “What do we do now?”

  Bennett asking him for guidance? If the whole situation had not been so tragic, Huma might have laughed. “Pull back. We must warn the Keep. With so few lances, we ought to circle Vingaard. Make the taking of it as costly a task as possible.”

  “You’re giving up?”

  “Not at all. For now, the defense of the Keep remains our best option.” Huma turned to the others. “Back to Vingaard!”

  Huma tried to hide his own disappointment as they turned to flee the coming horde. The situation seemed hopeless.

  Something bright glittered in his eyes then, and at first Huma thought it was the reflection of the sun. Only, he suddenly realized, there was no sun. What glittered in his eyes was a light with no visible source.

  As Huma’s eyes focused on the tiny flickering light, it seemed to beckon. It was not exactly light, more a greenish glow. It reminded Huma of the glow emanating from the Sword of Tears.

  The glow seemed to flutter earthward, and Huma hesitated. Huma drew the silver dragon’s attention to the glittering object.

  “What do you make of it?”

  “A messenger of some sort, but I suspect its maker wears black. Ignore it and a let us return before things worsen. I – I do not like it here.” She was acting strangely, Huma realized. She had been quiet and almost sullen since her attack on Dracos had failed. It had been Dracos’s comment on his mistress’s charms that had set her off, Huma realized. But why? Had the silver dragon been afraid that he would fall prey to such a false dream?

  Huma took a deep breath – and shook his head. “Follow the light down.”

  “Huma —”

  “DO IT.” He had never spoken to her like that, but he did not think he could trust her reactions at this moment. The decision would be his.

  “Huma!” Kaz called from ahead of them. Huma shook his head and pointed back toward the Keep, his face expressionless. The minotaur muttered something to Bolt, then turned to the others, to see what was happening. Kaz shouted something. Regardless, the massive easterner would wait with his dragon while the knight investigated whatever held his fascination.

  With reluctance, the silver dragon began following the greenish glow downward. When they had reached the base of a particular hill, the greenish glow twinkled abruptly out of existence. The silver dragon landed, and Huma looked around expectantly.

  “I come in peace, Knight of Solamnia.” The voice was low and grated on the ears. Its owner was the image of a short, wiry man with an oversized head and narrow, weasel-like features. Not a stitch of hair grew on his head.

  He wore a black robe.

  “A trick! I told you!” The silver dragon reared up, ready to defend Huma. The Black Robe cowered, though there was no fear in his eyes. Huma shouted until his companion quieted. He was becoming disturbed with her new restiveness.

  “Hear me out,” grated the dark mage.

  Huma stared sullenly at the Black Robe. “What do you have to say? I’ve already spoken with your master.”

  The magic-user made a face. “There you touch on the point of this meeting. The renegade who has styled himself our master. That carrion!”

  “You both serve the same mistress do you not?”

  “Listen carefully, Knight of Solamnia, for I’ve no way of knowing when the cur will notice my absence. We need your agreement.”

  “Mine?” Huma blinked. A Black Robe seeking aid from him?

  “We know of you – through one who has worn many robes in his life and who even now wears another, in spirit if not in body.”

  “Magius!” The knight leaped on the vague description. “Where?”

  The spellcaster raised a hand to silence him. “No time for that. Listen. We know now that if the Dragonqueen is victorious, we will be no more to her than you are. Dracos has already become her mortal voice, and his world will seem one born from the Abyss itself. You have seen his abominations. Would you like to see them made permanent? We wish to join with you. Better to die fighting than to be forever at her mercy – and she will have a special place for both our orders, mark me.”

  An offer of alliance … from a Black Robe? “How can I possibly believe you, one of her creatures?”

  The mage straightened. “My first and foremost loyalty is to Nuitari, Dark Lord of Magic. We erred in believing we served him when we chose to serve – I will not call her his mother – let us say she who had given birth to him. Nuitari, though, cares for this world. That is why he, Lunitari, and —” The spellcaster hesitated at saying the name. “— even Solinari of the Light abandoned the struggle for Krynn and created the Orders of Sorcery as a separate entity, one that should work for the betterment of magic in the world. If Takhisis is victorious, Krynn will become little more than a cold rock among the stars. Our lord’s dream will perish. We cannot have that.”

  “What do you want?”

  “It is not so much what we want as what we can give.”

  “Give?” The silver dragon, silent through much of this exchange, narrowed her eyes and laughed sarcastically. “A Black Robe gives nothing but misery and death.”

  “An unjust falsehood. However, in this case, any misery and death we deal shall be aimed toward Dracos and his ragtag band – but we need an opening.”

  “An opening? What do you mean?”

  “I offer you this.” The mage held out a bony hand. In his palm rested a tiny green sphere. “Unless you can get close enough, you will never see the castle of Galan Dracos; it lies on the edge between our plane and the Abyss. With this, you will be able to locate it.”

  The silver dragon scoffed. “Is there not the matter of your former mistress, the Dragonqueen? Is she to step idly aside while we charge the domain of her most trusted servant?”

  The spellcaster indicated the Dragonlance. “I’m told that she has doubts about these. That she remains within the confines of the castle, near the path to the Abyss, because she fears the power of the Dragonlances.”

  “Preposterous! Huma, I won’t let you …” The silver dragon turned as she spoke and froze at the look on his face. “Huma … you cannot believe this.”

  The knight ignored her. “What will you do when we strike, assuming we do?”

  “Within the castle, the remainder of the Black Guard and those renegades who willingly follow Dracos will be your greatest threat. We shall deal with them. If possible, we shall strive to turn away the dragons as well.”

  “Madness!”

  A shadow loomed above. All three looked up to see Kaz and Bolt hovering. The minotaur was shouting.

  “Be quick! I see dragons scouting ahead.”

  The mage quickly turned back to Huma. “By Nuitari, I swear that my name is Gunther and that you may trust me. Take it!”

  The Black Robe had sworn by his lord. For the followers of Nuitari, the penalties for breaking oaths were ofttimes fatal. Huma reached down and accepted the small green sphere.

  “We are with you.” The mage vanished abruptly. Huma kicked his mount gently. She spread her wings and began rising, relief evident on her features.

  Kaz saw Huma’s closed fist and blinked. “What is it?”

  Huma stared at the app
roaching sea of destruction and thought how simple the spell of darkness seemed now. He glanced down at the hand that held the small sphere. “A desperate hope, at best, I think.”

  Chapter 27

  “By the triumvirate! How much more can they possibly throw against us?”

  Guy Avondale shook his head. “Evil always grows abundant when given the chance to take root. Melodramatic statement by my predecessor, but all too true.”

  They stood in the courtyard where the dragons and their riders had landed. The loss of two of their elite number disturbed the Grand Master, as did news of yet another wave of evil rising toward them.

  “What of this deal with the followers of Nuitari, Huma?” asked Bennett. “Can they be trusted, in your opinion?”

  After deep thought, Huma finally answered. “I believe so.” He held up the tiny, emerald globe. It pulsated. “They gave this. Granted, it might be a means for them to draw us out so that we fall to them in the open field, but it was accompanied by an oath to the God of Dark Magic himself. No Black Robe with a desire to live will cross Nuitari.”

  “I agree,” added the Grand Master. He sighed. “Well, we have quite a problem. We cannot possibly defend Vingaard for too long against a siege of this intensity. At the same time, it would be simple madness to go out and meet that horde.” He hesitated, then added, “I offered the dragons the chance to depart if they felt the cause was lost here.” Lord Oswal held up a hand to silence his anxious companions. “I had to ask. I believe, though, that they will stay with us until the end. We shall see. Where was I? Ah. We still do not know all about the east. The ogres are said to be stabilizing there. We can look for no help from the south – blast the elves! The north – water.”

  “We have the fake Dragonlances,” interrupted Bennett. “Let us use them in one final assault. In the confusion of the foe, a few of them will buy time, if nothing else.”

  Lord Oswal grunted and stared at the lances of the riders. “I think insanity rules the day, but unless there are other suggestions, we shall combine the epic charge my nephew so desperately craves with a coordinated search for and attack on the castle of Galan Dracos.” He looked around. No one, not even Lord Avondale, cleric and veteran soldier, could oppose the suicidal strategy.

  Oswal shook his head. “If I am remembered at all, it will probably be as the Grand Master cursed for sending his men to the slaughter.”

  A horn sounded.

  “They’ve spotted the first wave,” someone said anxiously. Knights suddenly were moving all about. Horses were being readied and lined up. Row upon row of knights formed. Pikemen, lancers, bowmen, each and every type moved to assure that there was no disorder in this hour of peril.

  “Break out the footmen’s lances!” shouted the Grand Master to one of his aides. The man saluted hastily and went to inform the squires, whose job it would be.

  Huma wanted to order the remaining Dragonlancers into battle formation, but Lord Oswal prevented him. “No. If you hope to break through and make your way to the mountains, you’ll have to go when the dragons are engaged.”

  “But the ground forces —”

  “Will receive as much protection as they can get from the dragons. I —”

  The horn sounded again, a different note this time.

  “What in the name of Kiri-Jolith is that?” The Grand Master and the others hurried toward the front, where Lord Hawkeye was in direct command.

  “Lord Hawkeye.” The ruling Knight of the Order of the Crown whirled.

  “Grand Master, they’ve come to a halt, just in sight. Even the dragons have stopped. It’s as if they’re waiting for something. I’ve put everybody on standby.”

  “Very good.” Huma held his breath until the Grand Master relaxed the evident strain on his face. “They are going to play with our minds. They want us to come charging out to meet them. The abysmal fools. We can’t be tricked into such an easy death!

  “Let them sweat a little. Let them wait. When Galan Dracos or his mistress runs out of patience, then we will make our move.”

  A gold dragon fluttered from a spire down to the courtyard. He was old, even for a dragon, for his hide was cracked and covered with ancient battle scars. There was no weakness in his form, though.

  “I conveyed to the others your earlier offer.” The voice was deep and rumbling, a bit like the earth elemental that had served Magius.

  The knights became silent.

  Lord Oswal had hesitated, but now he asked, “And what was their response?”

  The dragon gave him a look that could only be described as I-told-you-so. “We will not abandon you. Without Vingaard Keep, the outposts will not stand. This is the place of decision. Vingaard falls, then Ergoth falls, then the elfin lands and dwarven lands fall. The Queen rules all.”

  “I only sought to keep the cause of Paladine alive if we failed here.”

  “The cause for good will always live. Even Takhisis must know that.”

  Despite the activity around them, it was as if all sound had ceased for the group. Huma understood that the dragons had committed themselves to a battle to the death. For the sake of their human allies. For the sake of their belief in the teachings of Paladine.

  The Grand Master did something unprecedented then. He went down on one knee and paid homage, not to that particular dragon, but to all of its kind. With the way to freedom open, they were remaining.

  “Thank you. I hoped – but one never knows.”

  The gold dragon gave a majestic nod, spread his lengthy wings, and departed skyward. The Grand Master watched quietly, then turned at a new sound. Squires bearing the simulated Dragonlances for footmen rushed toward the assembled knights. Huma stared at the lances that were removed from the boxes. How they glowed! It was as if …

  “Milord!” Huma surprised himself as he interrupted the Grand Master.

  “Yes, Huma?”

  “If you’ll excuse me, there are some things I must prepare.”

  “Then go.”

  “Kaz.” Huma pulled the minotaur aside. “Retrieve one of the lances the squires are passing out and compare it to one of the real Dragonlances.”

  “What —” The minotaur got no further.

  “I’ll explain when I return.” Huma rushed away, leaving the minotaur to puzzle over his comrade’s request.

  The smithy itself was only a short distance away, just out of sight of the Grand Master and the others.

  Even as Huma approached it, the massive wooden doors swung forward and Huma stepped back quickly, coming face-to-face with a stranger.

  “It would be best to avoid standing near doors if you do not wish to injure yourself.” The newcomer had silver-black hair and a narrow, long head. His eyes seemed to burn for a moment, and Huma was reminded of the figure who had stared at Gwyneth the one night when they had walked the courtyard. She had been afraid of that man. This could not be the same person, though. This one was taller and thinner. But the eyes …

  “You are Huma of the Lance,” the stranger decided. His eyes were piercing.

  “I am Huma.” The knight was no bard’s hero that he should carry a title such as that.

  “The master smith has been busy, but I think he can spare a bit of time for you.” The smile was odd, so alien that Huma shivered. What was he reminded of?

  Voices carried from inside. Both were familiar, but one especially so.

  “— Can you give me no advice?”

  “— I have been away from the world of men much too long – and my time on Krynn is almost done. Best you should seek one of your own.”

  “— None of them understand! How am I to tell him that I am not what he thinks I am? That I have flown with him nearly every day without him realizing it? Do you think he could love me if he knew I – we —”

  There was little light, save around the forge, and that only served to silhouette the two figures standing there.

  “Gwyneth?”

  The one figure, female, turned at his voice, uttered
a gasp, and fled through the rear doorway. Huma made to follow, but the remaining figure blocked his way and greeted him heartily.

  “Huma! How good it is to see you one last time!” Duncan Ironweaver lifted him high, shook him like a babe, and set him down again. Huma glanced behind the towering smith, but there was no sign of where Gwyneth had gone.

  “You actually thought I’d leave you with only twenty lances? Lad, you surprise me!”

  “Then they are real! It isn’t my imagination!”

  “Not hardly! I had many, many more than twenty, but not situated near. Besides, you would never have been able to bring them all back. Too many of her spies about. Besides,” he smiled, “I needed the trip.”

  “And the smithy …”

  Duncan Ironweaver indicated the work area. “They were in need of a master armorer and weaponry expert. I bent the truth a little and said you had summoned me from the south – which, in a sense, you did. They were understandably impressed with my work and let me take over. Soon it was just me and my assistants.”

  “It’s – it’s incredible!” All this time, real Dragonlances were being created in the smithy.

  The huge smith tapped his chest. “You’ve proved to them that the Dragonlances work, Huma. I don’t think even your illustrious Grand Master realizes just how many of those men believe in the lances.”

  Huma’s mind began to spin. “Saddles! We’ll need more saddles.”

  “Khildith!”

  For the first time, Huma noticed the smith’s assistants. An elf, a human, and the dwarf who was evidently Khildith, as it was he who stepped forward.

  “Master Ironweaver?”

  “Are the saddles ready?”

  The dwarf broke into a grin much like the smith’s. The dwarf was well-whiskered and, though he appeared quite ancient, moved with the speed and grace of one in his prime. “More than enough to go around.”

  “Fine, fine.” Duncan Ironweaver walked over to Huma and put a hand on his shoulder. The knight felt himself politely but forcibly being steered away.