Richard Knaak - The Legend of Huma

“Cyan Bloodbane teams much watching Master Galan.”

The renegade’s laugh was just as cold and cruel as the young dragon’s voice. “Cyan Bloodbane will never grow to his full potential if he thinks to ever master me. You are an experiment. Cyan. Through me, you have come to understand the minds of humans, elves, dwarves, and all the other races as none of your kind has. When you are fully grown, your name will strike terror even in their dreams—but not if you cross me”

Something began to choke uncontrollably, and Huma wondered if perhaps the dragon had decided to end the mage’s arrogant speech. A moment later, he heard Cyan Bloodbane apologizing frantically.

“Master Galan is all-powerful! No more! Please!”

“This room grows too foul from your chlorine-infested breath. Depart! I will summon you when I wish your presence again.”

“Master!” Wings flapped, and Huma realized that this chamber must have an outside entrance on a higher level.

The sound of footsteps alerted him that Dracos was moving away. Huma dared peer around again and caught sight of the mage’s back before the latter disappeared through another archway. The chamber torches seemed to dim as he departed.

Huma took a step into the chamber. He half expected some sorcerous trap, but nothing so much as flickered.

With carefully measured steps, he made his way to the black, crystalline platform and stared at the large sphere. Perhaps, he thought, this was what his tiny guide had been drawn to. Perhaps this was how Dracos kept the existence of the castle from the outside world—or it might be—

He was struck by a wave of revulsion that made him stagger and nearly caused him to drop his sword. It was coming, he realized dimly, from the globe itself. Huma closed his eyes briefly and concentrated. The hatred vanished, to be replaced with contempt and humor as someone mocked him—mocked his very existence. Huma forced his eyes open, knowing what he would see and refusing to let it daunt him.

She was there, staring at him from somewhere, staring at him through the sphere.

Takhisis.

Oddly, Huma’s first thought was whether Galan Dracos knew that she could reach into this chamber. Did she suspect—as Huma was just beginning to—that, based on his commands to the mesmerized servant, Dracos plotted something against her? Surely she suspected that one as ambitious as the renegade would never be satisfied unless he controlled all. Was that perhaps why she smiled?

Smiled? There had been no true face there at first. Now, though, the Dark Queen permitted herself eyes, a nose, and a mouth. It was a feminine face, though she might very well have appeared as an armored warrior or even a tree if it suited her fancy.

In truth, the more he stared, the more Huma knew that he had never seen such a beautiful face. These were the sculpted features of a queen among queens, truly an immortal. A man could easily become lost in that beauty—for eternity. For such a small price. What had the knighthood given him but misery? Because of it, he had lost his parents, Rennard, and countless comrades, including Buoron. Even his love had been taken away from him—

Lies! The fog lifted from his mind and he saw the lies behind the so-called truths. Rennard had been lost long before the knighthood; he had been responsible for the death of Huma’s mother. Huma’s father, Durac, had died fighting for something he believed in desperately, something he found worth dying for. As for Gwyneth—the thought remained unfinished.

Rather than strike him down, the Dark Queen merely smiled.

The face vanished. Only a touch of the evil that was the Dragonqueen remained behind to remind him what he had just experienced.

“I think it is time to end this game,” said Galan Dracos suddenly.

Galan Dracos folded his arms and stared at the knight. His thin lips were curled in a smile like a scavenger. The renegade mage reached up and pulled back the hood of his cloak so that his face was fully visible. His hair, thin and straggly, was plastered to his skull and formed a widow’s peak on his forehead. The head itself was elongated, almost inhuman. The mage reached out and patted the bone-white head of one of a pair of dreadwolves that flanked him; the motion revealed long, bony fingers ending in talons.

“And so, we come to the end. I would have wanted it no other way. You had to be here to see my triumph . . . the ultimate triumph.”

“You knew I was here?”

“The followers of Nuitari do him no credit. They are so caught up in their self-importance that they do not realize what one can do when unconstrained by the laws set by those fools running the Conclave of the Three Orders. I wouldn’t look for support from them.”

As Dracos spoke, Huma was gauging his options—and there were not many. A plan born of desperation filtered through his mind. Huma took a step back and held his free hand over the great sphere in which the knight, only moments before, had faced the vision of the Dragonqueen. “One motion and I shatter this. Where will your dreams be then?”

“They would literally fall to pieces—if you could indeed break the globe. I offer you the opportunity to try.”

Huma struck the top of the emerald sphere as hard as he could. His gauntleted hand bounced off. There was not even a single scratch on the globe.

“You see?”

Huma nodded and allowed his free hand to fall casually to his belt.

“I think—” was all Galan Dracos managed to say before Huma pulled out a sharp blade and threw it directly at the mage.

The dagger flew with accuracy. Yet, the renegade merely raised a finger and the blade slowed, arched—and blew back toward Huma. The knight dove forward and tumbled down the steps of the crystalline platform. The knife bounced off the huge green sphere and fell with a clatter to the floor.

“Pathetic. I had expected more of you after all this.” Before Huma could steady himself, Dracos snapped his fingers. The knight suddenly was gripped from behind by massive hands seemingly made of stone. He struggled, trying to pry apart the thick, monstrous fingers. The unseen menace did not waver, and Huma’s armor began to dig into his flesh.

“Against that wall.” Dracos pointed.

Huma was whirled around and lifted up. Something cold and rocky caught hold of each wrist and then his ankles. The knight was trapped.

The rapid, precise movements had given Huma no opportunity to glimpse the mage’s servant. Suddenly, Huma could see with dismay that his captor had actually been one of the gargoyles lining the room. As Huma watched, the gargoyle slowly returned to its niche. Over his shoulder, Huma could see that another gargoyle, little more than arms, held him tight against the wall.

“I see you admire my handiwork.” Dracos stepped closer, and the captive knight saw that a thin layer of scales covered much of his face. The renegade was almost reptilian in appearance, and Huma found himself wondering just how much of his humanity the mage surrendered for his power.

“To be fair, I underestimated you in the beginning. I thought you only a pawn of Magius, a former friend he once more found useful. Imagine my surprise to discover that not only weren’t you a pawn, but our mutual friend actually trusted you.”

Talk of Magius made Huma struggle, but the paws of the gargoyle permitted him no slack. He glared helplessly at the renegade, who only beamed in greater satisfaction.

“He renounced everything he had done, you know. I doubt there was a whiter robe in all of Krynn in those last few days. Pity. You should have heard the screams. My—assistants—can be imaginative. I had to punish one for overenthusiasm. He would have killed our friend.” The renegade chuckled. “I do so hate to discourage imagination, though. Not that it mattered by then. I fear that Magius was not really with us after that. He began to talk to himself—childhood things, I gather. It annoyed my servants to no end. He paid no attention to their fine work. In fact, he didn’t speak again until you and I met. You must have meant a great deal to him for him to come back from whatever safe haven he had thrust his mind into.” Dracos shrugged. “Enough talk of the past. Let us deal now with the future—for those of us who still have one.”