Richard Knaak - The Legend of Huma

“Who—?”

“Save your breath for walking. You’ve gone deeper into the forest than you think.”

As they walked, Huma dared to cast a wary eye toward the newcomer. He was tall, this stranger, and clad in extravagant, well-made clothing. Elegant gold locks of hair gave him the look of a regal lion. The stranger’s countenance was less visible, but Huma received the impression of a handsome, almost pretty face, one well at home in the royal courts, perhaps flirting with young, well-to-do maidens. There was a familiarity to it, too. Someone he had not seen in years. . . .

“Magius!” Huma blurted out the name in shock.

They stopped. The newcomer released him. They stared at one another, and the knight noticed that the other seemed to glow from within.

“Huma. It’s good to see you, even under the circumstances. I wondered how long I might—if you’ll pardon the expression—keep you in the dark.”

“You’re alive!” Huma had never been sure what happened after that test in the tower. “You’re alive!” he repeated in wonder.

The face of Magius was visible, even in the dark. His mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “Yes. I apologize.”

The smile on Huma’s face crumbled, and he asked, “Apologize? Why should you apologize?”

“Do you think I was out here by pure coincidence, Huma? I hope not. It was because of me that your life was placed in jeopardy.”

“I don’t understand.” The thought of danger made Huma reach for his sword. As his hand touched empty air, he remembered what had become of his weapon. He turned. “My sword! I have to go—”

“No!” The mage’s voice was loud and commanding. “We should not stay out here alone any longer than we need to. Go back when you have men at your back. The dreadwolves may have fled, but I could be wrong. It would not be the first time. The gods know, it would not be the first time.”

Magius urged him back toward the camp, and Huma saw the wisdom. He would, however, get some answers.

“What was that back there? What did you mean earlier?”

Some of the magnificence of his old friend seemed to evaporate. Magius was suddenly an older man than Huma, although both were the same age. The mage did not look directly at the knight. “I think you had better ask one of the Red Robes back at camp. He should be able to give you the official version.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Trouble of the sort which I will be sure to lead away from you now. I was a fool to even think of coming to you.”

The glow of dim fires was the first evidence that the camp was near. Huma heard the sounds of men in action. Someone had noticed the absence of the two knights—one the captain of the guard, no less.

Magius also heard the activity. He stopped abruptly. “Whatever you hear, I have not changed, Huma.” The mage grabbed his dearest friend by the shoulders. “Believe me! If the test did anything, it proved that!”

The glow that had surrounded the magic-user so pompously suddenly vanished, but not before Huma caught sight of the fear in his friend’s face. Not just fear for himself, but fear for Huma as well.

“Listen.” The shadows covered the mage’s face now, giving him an unearthly aspect. “The creatures won’t bother you any longer. It’s me their masters are after. They sent them after me once they learned I was gone.”

With a chill, Huma said, “You’re running from the Dragonqueen’s creatures.”

Something snapped a dried branch. Both men froze. Huma studied what he could of the forest but saw nothing.

Magius leaned close and whispered. “I must leave. You know me, Huma. You know what I am capable of. Believe in that. If things take a turn, either good or bad, I will contact you.”

Tall, dark shapes became visible between the trees. Magius glared at them and whirled away. Huma opened his mouth to speak but realized that would be dangerous folly. He prayed Magius had been right in leaving Huma’s sword at the tree, pinning the abomination to the trunk.

Summoning up his courage, Huma resumed the trek back to camp, praying as he walked that the first thing he met would be a fellow knight and not something out of a mage’s nightmare.

As it happened, he met the searchers only minutes from the site where the sentry had disappeared. Huma felt guilty about forgetting the hapless sentry, one who had been even less experienced than he. There was nothing Huma could do for the man, though, and he knew he should be more concerned with what might very well still be lurking outside the camp, and what that might mean. If the enemy had infiltrated this far past the line . . .

Rennard took his report, none too surprised, it seemed, that it was Huma who had stumbled upon trouble. News of the attacker, who could have been only a mage, did trouble him, although no emotions were evident in his mien. A party that included Huma and Rennard returned to the spot where Huma had been led. The lifeless form of the sentry showed no marks, as if the unfortunate man had merely fallen to the ground, dead. Rennard spat, and in an unprecedented display of emotion, cursed all mages in general. Huma cringed. He had left out all mention of Magius, though it went against the Measure and the Oath. How honorable was a knight who lied?

Magius, though, was his friend.

Seen with clear eyes, the shadowy attacker proved to be all too solid. Rennard removed the sword from the tree and let the mage’s body fall. Much to his own surprise, Huma reached down and pushed the cowl back from the face.

Even in the dark, the face repelled. Only Rennard seemed untouched by the evil stamped on it.

Human the mage might have been, but he looked more like a reptile. His skin was dark and scaly, and it glittered in the light of the torches. The eyes were narrow slits, and the nose was nearly nonexistent. Huma noted teeth that would have put the minotaur’s to shame. More than one knight called on Paladine.

The corpse was muffled within a thick, coarse robe of brown cloth. Rennard fingered it, then released it as he would a viper. “He does not wear the black of the Dragonqueen.” He pointed to a pair of knights. “Take this thing back to the camp. I want to see what the spellcasters have to say. The rest of you, fan out. Make sure he left no surprises behind. Huma, you stay with me.”

They watched the others depart, and then Rennard swung around and glared at Huma with such anger that its very appearance on the otherwise bland face made the younger knight step back.

“Who was the other?”

“There was no one.”

“There was another.” A chill followed his words. “I know. I see no reason why you would seek to hide the presence of a mage, unless . . .” He stared intently into Huma’s eyes. Huma met the gaze and battled with it. Surprisingly, it was Rennard who was forced to turn away.

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

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

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

Despite his respect for Rennard, Huma stiffened at this insult. “Magius is none of those things. We grew up together. He would not betray what he believed in.”

Rennard shook his head sadly. “You will not understand until it is too late.” Then, as if all had been said that could be said, Rennard dropped the subject. “Come. We’d best return to camp. I think this is something Lord Oswal should hear about.”

The pale warrior returned the sword to Huma. Without waiting to see if Huma followed, Rennard began walking. Huma hurried after him, wondering what the other knight would report and what Huma himself would say, knowing all too well that one of those who listened would already know he had lied.