Richard Knaak: The Legend of Huma

“I was a fool! They caught me napping like a newborn and trussed me up good! I am many things, but not crazy enough to try rising to face two pikes that had me pinned to the ground. Even goblins can’t miss at that range.” The last made Kaz laugh, though Huma found little humor in the statement.

They finally agreed to stop at a small rise that would provide some protection. It was uncomfortably too much like the position that the first goblin patrol had chosen. Still, it was better than wide-open terrain. Huma only prayed he would keep his eyes open long enough to wake the minotaur when it was Kaz’s turn to watch.

They talked a little while, perhaps because neither felt safe about sleep. Huma spoke of the knighthood and its basic beliefs and organization. Kaz found the Knights of Solamnia interesting. Many aspects about it appealed to the easterner, especially the great respect for honor.

Kaz went into very little detail about his own people. They were great mariners, it was true, but their lives were now controlled by the ogres. They still had their tournaments of honor, where one rose in rank by defeating his opponent, but the ogres cared little for this method and chose new measures more appealing to their ways. Because of that, Kaz had already built up a great hatred of his so-called masters before his deadly clash with his captain. Anything was better than servitude to their kind, he felt.

That Huma trusted Kaz with his life disturbed the Solamnian a little. He had already seen how savage the minotaur could become. Huma never could have snapped an opponent’s neck with the efficiency and—eagerness—that Kaz had shown. Yet he felt that the minotaur could be trusted where his word was concerned. The debate in Huma’s mind raged on until he fell prey to weariness. Then it became a moot point.

The night passed without incident, as did the first hours of day. They ate what little rations Huma had left. A brief look in the goblins’ bags had made the knight lose all desire for any food the creatures might have been carrying, and besides, the goblins’ food might have been tampered with.

The day was bleak. A chill wind was picking up, and Huma was thankful that he wore good, strong padding beneath his armor. Kaz, however, seemed unbothered by the cool weather. His race was one of explorers and mariners, as well as warriors, and the lands of his birth could get exceptionally cold in the dark months. The barechested footsoldier did not even wear boots. Had Huma walked as far in his bare feet, they would have been scarred, bleeding, and mangled. The lands here had been baked hard and rough by the past.

About midday, Huma noticed the riders in the distance.

The riders did not come in Huma and Kaz’s direction, and soon the group was lost from sight. But Huma believed the Knights of Solamnia, and that meant odds were good that the column—or at least a portion of it—waited nearby.

Kaz, on the other hand, was not so confident about the identities of the riders. Here, so close to the front, they could be anyone.

“True, they appeared to be humans—or perhaps elves—but they may have been among those who serve Takhisis. You have never seen the Black Guard, the Warlord’s elite troops. Nor the renegades for that matter.”

The minotaur had used that puzzling word before. “Who are the renegades?” Huma asked.

“Sorcerers unschooled. Mad mages. All of them, somehow or another, have escaped the notice of the orders of magic. Not all are evil. It is said, though, that one with tremendous power has made a pact with the Dark Queen herself, and that she is so desperate for victory now that she has shunned her own Black Robes.”

Magic. Huma knew more about it than most of his comrades. He had grown up with it. His best—his only—friend had turned to sorcery. From the first, Magius had told Huma that some day he would be a great and powerful sorcerer, even as Huma leaned toward the knighthood that his mother had claimed was his birthright.

Thinking of Magius made Huma think too much of his early years, times that, while cherished in some ways, had left him bitter and unsure. He had not seen Magius in years, not since the day his friend had completed his studies and entered the tower for some sort of test that would decide his fate. On that very same day, Huma had made a decision of his own and had set out to confront the Knights of Solamnia and petition for a place among them.

Huma shook away the thoughts.

They continued walking. Kaz continually scanned the horizon, but he seemed a stranger to the terrain. At one point, he turned and asked, “Are all of the human lands like this?”

“You’ve never seen any of them?”

“Only the worst areas. Where else would the ogres put us but in the worst positions? In our own way, we are more expendable to them than the goblins. They trust neither of our races, but they know they can control the goblins.”

Huma nodded his understanding. “There are still lands untouched by the war, but they grow fewer each year. Where my home was, is now a wasteland akin to this.” With that came a rush of bitter memories. He forced himself to concentrate on the path ahead. The past was behind him.

The minotaur’s head snapped forward. “We have company of some sort.”

The knight squinted. More than three dozen figures, all human, headed in their general direction. Survivors of some village, he realized. Lost survivors, evidently, with two broken-down wagons hauled by animals half-dead and led by men who looked no better. There were women, too, and even a couple of children. As they drew closer, he suddenly realized that most of them were gazing at his companion. What he could read in those gazes, he did not care for at all.

“We must be careful, Kaz.”

“Against this pathetic rabble? You needn’t bother. I can take these all by myself.” Kaz started to reach for the ax strapped to his back, but Huma caught his arm.

“No!” he hissed. “That’s murder!”

The usually quick-reacting warrior hesitated. The mind of a minotaur worked much differently from that of a man. Kaz saw a threat; there were more than enough men to take him down if he failed to react. His world did not accept compromise. One triumphed or died. Huma stood dumbfounded; he did not want to fight Kaz, but he could not very well allow the minotaur to go tearing into the refugees.

Though Kaz lowered his hand, the damage was already done. The villagers saw only a monster who had threatened them. They already had seen their homes destroyed, and friends and relatives killed. Frustration at their helplessness had built higher and higher, with no outlet. Now, a lone minotaur who represented all that was evil, all their suffering, stood in their path. Several men and women shuffled forward, a ragged mob. They were pale and frightened, a suicidal fright. All they wanted was one chance to strike back before they died.

Huma was appalled at the sight. The group moved like living dead. Farm tools, knives, rope, even various household items were clutched as weapons. Kaz stood his ground, but he gave Huma a quick glance.

“If they come a few steps closer, I will strike no matter what you say. I will not stand and die at their hands.” The minotaur’s eyes glared blood red. Before long, he would act. Huma jumped in front of the mob, sword raised in the air. “Stop! He means no harm!”

It was a pathetic attempt, and the results were as he had feared. The murderous mob came to a halt, but only to decide what to do about the young knight barring their path.

“Step aside!” one grizzled elder yelled. A cloth was tied over one eye, and the red stain on it indicated a recent wound. His skin was cracked, and his sparse hair clung to his head. “We want him! He’s got to pay for what he’s done!”