Richard Knaak - The Legend of Huma

What would the Oath and Measure demand?

Once there had been an instructor, Garig, who was determined that the young squire Huma would fail the preparations for knighthood. Gang was a beast of a man who more resembled a bear in face and form. Some wondered that he was a knight at all, brutal as he could be. As a matter of fact, Garig intended to wear Huma down inside of a month.

Huma had stayed, though. Stayed, learned, and excelled, though Garig frightened him immensely. Lord Oswal, the High Warrior, had encouraged him. Like Rennard, Lord Oswal had seen something in Huma that he was determined to cultivate, despite the boy’s dubious bloodline. At last, the squire stood up to the overwhelming instructor and defeated him soundly in what could only loosely be called a mock combat. That was a victory as much over fear as over Garig.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rennard stiffened. “I will stay, if it pleases the High Warrior.”

It did not please Bennett, that was obvious. Trake’s son hated Rennard almost as much as he hated Huma, but for different reasons. Only one person other than Lord Oswal could defeat the Grand Master’s offspring in mock combat. Soundly, too. For someone like Bennett, who prided himself on perfection, it was almost intolerable. These two rivals stared openly at one another now, Rennard with as much regard as he would give a blade of grass.

Lord Oswal turned to Huma. “Normally, Lord Arak would take your report, but seeing as we are dealing with situations that change from one minute to the next, I would like us all to hear it immediately. Both Arak and Bennett have agreed to this,” Bennett glanced at his uncle and then away again. “If you would begin, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, milord—milords.”

The High Warrior waved a hand. “You two are dismissed.”

Lord Hawkeye added, “Knights Huma and Rennard, you are both relieved from duty for the night. Get some rest.”

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

“That went well,” Rennard added casually.

Huma could not look at him. “Thank you, Rennard.”

“For what? That? Someone must save you from yourself. Besides, I would not give Bennett the satisfaction. Not even for the Oath. Or the Measure.”

His words left Huma hanging. Rennard lived by a code of his own, it seemed.

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

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

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

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

Behind him, the gate closed silently.

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

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