Richard Knaak - The Legend of Huma

With the coming of the dragons, Huma momentarily forgot his fears. The presence of dragons always filled him with an almost childlike delight. He began to hurry to where they were landing, ignoring the shouts of Kaz, who had no desire to confront dragons so soon again.

Huma was not the only one running. Even the veterans came rushing, for a visit by the dragons often meant news of great importance.

When Huma arrived at the place of landing, he saw that the three commanders of the army were already engaged in conversation with an immense dragon of gold. Despite its massiveness, the dragon spoke in quiet, almost scholarly tones. The creature’s news must have proved troubling, though, for Huma noted the dark look on Lord Oswal’s face.

Huma spotted Rennard. The knight seemed even more pale than usual and looked surprised when Huma called to him.

“What news, Rennard?”

“The eastern forces are in retreat.”

The tonelessness of Rennard’s voice caused Huma to miss the magnitude of the gaunt knight’s statement. When realization did hit, Huma could only stand and gape before finally drawing enough breath to spit out the same words he had just heard. He repeated them once more, then shook his head.

“It’s not possible! The knighthood has never suffered such a defeat!”

“It has now.”

They were forced to wait while the commanders and the gold dragon continued their discussion. Kaz stepped up next to Huma, the look on the minotaur’s face indicating that he had heard the news. The young knight wondered how the mammoth easterner felt. Still, the minotaur could not return to the enemy after killing one of his commanders.

As if reading his thoughts, Kaz looked down. “I have not regretted my act, Huma. I chose to strike down the ogre, and I would do so again. Besides, there is no true home for me among my people now. To them, I would be a coward and a weakling for showing pity to the helpless.”

Most of the other dragons had landed by this time. Huma noticed one silver dragon that, if possible, seemed familiar. He was about to discard that as a ridiculous notion when the dragon turned in his direction and nodded. It was the same creature that had carried them to safety, the same dragon that had confronted the deadly black beast upon which had sat the warlord, Crynus, himself.

A horn sounded from the direction of the front, a single mournful wail that died a slow death, as if he who blew the horn had lost all hope. As well he might have.

The blackness once more was spreading across the heavens. Within minutes, it would overwhelm the first lines of the knights. Only the gods knew what would happen within its range.

Bennett and Arak Hawkeye cursed loudly, while Lord Oswal now truly looked like an old man. His shoulders sagged, and he was forced to turn away from the dragon.

The leviathan said nothing, but sympathy was evident.

“Milord!” Bennett was now shouting. A wind was picking up rather quickly. Some of the dragons beat their wings nervously, sensing, perhaps, the sinister powers summoned to conjure this new threat.

Lord Oswal seemed to recover at the sound of his nephew’s voice. Wasting no more time, he ordered the men to prepare for battle and lie in the nearest hollow. The camp would be left at the mercies of the wind. Now was not a time for tidiness. Now was life or death.

Lowering his visor, Rennard shouted, “It was a ploy, our defeat of that other darkness. I’ll wager that the mages will find themselves up against even greater odds when they attempt to push it back, and I’ll wager they lose.”

The wind forcing his breath back into his lungs, Huma followed the other knight’s example and lowered his visor. He gasped for air. Kaz, beside him, was forced to tolerate everything. Huma knew that the minotaurs sailed the roughest seas with relative ease, but still, Kaz had his hands over his face and he had fallen to one knee. Even so, the wind continued to grow. Loose equipment was beginning to blow away. The horses snorted wildly as a tent was torn from its stakes and tossed among them. Huma rushed over and pulled it free of the beasts. Unable to maintain his hold on the tent, Huma watched it go whirling away into the woods.

The entire area became a deathtrap of a hundred assorted forms. The campfires were blown high and wild by the wind, and some tents burst into flames.

Kaz was forced to cover his eyes lest he be blinded by the dust rising from the earth. “Sargas forgive me! It’s the king of all hurricanes, but on land!”

Indeed, the minotaur’s words seemed to ring true. No tornado or storm that Huma had ever witnessed contained the power to cause such destruction. Trees were bending perilously close to the ground. A little more pressure and they would be torn from the earth and flung skyward, and there appeared to be no letup in the raging darkness. It was only a matter of time.

Huma battled to maintain some sort of balance. How much more terrible was it out there at the front? Only the single horn blast had given them any warning. Crynus had planned well. Galan Dracos had planned well.

Suddenly, calm reigned. The wind died to near-nothing and refuse rained upon the ground. Kaz stood, and Huma opened his visor to get a better view.

“The spellcasters! They’ve done it.” They were there, far to his left.

There were twelve in all, six of the Red Robes, six of the White. Even from his position, Huma could see the strain they were under. This was not the storm of the other day. That had been only a pale illusion, perhaps a test, or even a trick. Whatever the case, these mages were now dealing with a power far, far stronger than they had anticipated.

One of the Red Robes fell, exhausted.

A breeze developed.

A horseman cut off Huma’s view. Huma looked up to see Bennett, fully in charge of himself and the situation, despite all the confusion. At the moment, with his hawkish, regal face and his intricately decorated armor, he might have been one of those who had ridden with Vinas Solamnus.

Bennett scanned the area, then turned his gaze to the younger knight. “Get the horses. If we don’t release them, they’ll be killed when the magic-users fall.”

As he spoke, another Red Robe wavered and then stumbled. The breeze increased to a squall.

“We’re pulling back!” The wind forced Bennett to yell. “We must not rout, though! If we do, nothing stands between the Queen’s jackals and Vingaard Keep! Nothing!”

The ten remaining mages could no longer keep a unified effort. Several collapsed, and the few left standing were insufficient for the task. What kind of power were they up against?

The sudden earth-shaking gale nearly threw Huma and Kaz to the ground. Bennett was only barely able to keep his horse under control. The warhorse was used to blood and steel, not wind so strong that it nearly swept the rider from the animal’s back. The steed’s natural instincts were to run for cover.

Bennett shouted something unintelligible and then raced off. Huma, remembering his earlier instructions, half-crawled toward where the horses screamed their protests. Kaz followed. His balance restored, he now moved more easily than the knight, thanks to his bulk.

Releasing the warhorses proved to be difficult. They had been worked up to a frenzy and regarded any moving object as a threat. The nearest kicked at Huma, and others snapped at his arm. Despite the danger, Huma had to get closer if he was to release them.

As he drew near, iron-shod hooves came down on him, and only because a heavy form bowled him over did he escape crippling punishment. One hoof struck his right arm, a glancing blow but still sufficient to numb it.

Huma struggled up and undid the reins. He had hoped to calm a few of the animals and possibly ride one to safety, but they were too far gone. He was half-dragged for a couple of yards before common sense got the better of him and he released his grip.