He did not notice the bitter smile that crept onto the worn face of the mage as the latter turned forward once more.
With Magius guiding them, they rode a twisted path through the plains and wooded lands southwest of Caergoth.
It was near dawn before the two finally came to a halt. Magius revealed a small, nearly hidden lake. They tied the horses near good grazing. The mage went to sleep shortly after—again without explaining things. Huma propped himself against a tree and sat staring out at the calm lake. He pondered the renegade mage who now wanted Huma as badly as he wanted Magius. Dracos.
The dreadwolf had been reduced to ash, leaving Galan Dracos without his spy and blind to the doings of Huma and Magius, at least for the time being. With the war taking so much of his personal effort, the renegade magic-user had been forced to rely on his spies for too much. Huma suspected that Dracos knew at least as much as Huma did about what Magius sought, and perhaps more. Somewhere, sometime, there would be more spies—and Huma had no doubt that sooner or later Galan Dracos would temporarily turn from his many other tasks and personally endeavor to put an end to both his enemies and their quest.
He picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the center of the lake—only to watch it come flying back out at him. Huma tried to stand, but his legs buckled. What had he walked into this time? he wondered angrily.
Abruptly, a woman’s head popped up from the edge of the lake. Though slightly green, it was very lovely. The eyes were narrow slits, as if the woman had just awakened. She had a tiny, pert nose and long, full lips. When she rose from the water, Huma saw that she was slim and long-legged, although she would not stand even as high as his shoulders. Her sole garment, a thin gown, was soaked and clung to every curve. A nymph. He had heard stories of them. They were said to be of the Age of Dreams, when there was no recorded history. Whether they were a race was debatable. They were very rarely seen.
“Hello, manling.” Her voice was melodious, like a small forest bird’s. She smiled, and Huma’s face reddened. Still, attractive though she was, another female form, Gwyneth’s, superimposed itself on his imagination. He managed to get to his feet.
“Hello.” It took him some time to build up the nerve to reply. The nymph disturbed him even as she attracted him. Such creatures, legend said, were not only playful, but deadly. More than one man had been lured to his demise, if there was any truth in the ancient tales. Huma’s hand stroked the pommel of his sword. Her kind was magical, and, despite his friendship with Magius, Huma still shared some of the knighthood’s distrust of sorcery.
Huma looked down by his side and was surprised to find that Magius still slept. Huma suspected the sleep was no longer natural, and he shuddered.
The nymph gave a surprised laugh. “I thought you were someone else,” she said. “I like you, too, though.”
“Oh?” He tried his best to be casual, though his heart and mind were racing. “Why did you think I was someone else?” If others visited the lake, Huma did not wish to remain here long. Should they be anything like the nymph, Huma suspected he would stand no chance if it came to conflict. His hand involuntarily gripped the handle of his weapon.
“You look like Buoron. All that silly metal. He comes to visit me. Would you like to see my home?”
Huma stepped back anxiously. Her home, according to what little he knew, was probably at the bottom of the lake. If she decided to compel him . . . “No, thank you,” he hurriedly answered. “I would not wish to impose.”
She pouted. “You even sound like Buoron.”
“Were you expecting him?” Huma glanced quickly around the edge of the lake, half-expecting to see a heavily armored figure come crashing through the trees at any moment.
The nymph walked onto the shore. Huma turned to Magius, but the mage still slept.
“He won’t wake until I let him. I don’t like him.”
The knight’s brow wrinkled. “You know him, too?”
She waved off the spellcaster as inconsequential. “Not him. His image.”
“Where?” Huma did not know what to make of this creature. She seemed fragile, but her power was strong enough to have trapped Magius with ease. Perhaps that would not have been possible if Magius had not been so exhausted, but it still bespoke great ability.
“I see it in my mirror. It shows me what others are dreaming. It gets so boring out here. I miss the cavern builders.”
“Cavern builders?”
“The ones that dig in the ground, silly. You know, short funny men.”
Dwarves. It was maddening to try to make sense of some of the things the nymph said.
She was standing close to him now, innocently leaning just close enough to unnerve him. “Are you sure you would not like to come see my home? I won’t let you drown as long as you do not get boring.”
There was the real trap. How many males had succumbed to that beauty and followed her down, only to find themselves trapped in a sea cave? Instinctively, he uttered a prayer to Paladine.
The nymph stepped away. “I wish you would not do that!”
Although not technically evil, she was not a creature of Paladine, nor Gilean, either. Therefore, true prayers to either, could annoy her or even drive her away.
Huma was about to apologize when he heard the sound of a heavy horse coming through the brush not far away. He tried to rise and grip his sword.
“Why, here comes Buoron. I hope you two will fight. I have not watched a good fight in centuries.”
The horse and rider broke through the foliage and onto the narrow strip of plain surrounding the tiny lake. The man wore a cloak over most of his body, but Huma could see the glint of armor underneath. The newcomer did not notice them at first. When he did, he merely gaped at Huma. The cloak slid open, and Huma was given his first good view of the armor beneath. Huma looked from armor to face, and back to armor again. He recalled Magius’s hurried mention of an outpost somewhere in southern Ergoth. A Solamnic outpost.
The nymph smiled sweetly. “See why I mistook you for Buoron? You even wear the same armor.”
It was true. Buoron was a Knight of the Crown.
Chapter 13
Buoron turned to gaze at the nymph. He was a rough-featured man, neither handsome nor ugly, but weathered. A deep sadness was in his eyes. Oddly, he was also minus the impressive mustache that most knights sported. Instead, he wore a black beard clipped in the same style as Lord Avondale. Huma wondered how long the other Solamnic knight had lived in this region.
“Leave us now,” Buoron said to the nymph.
“Will you not fight?”
Buoron seemed disgusted by the question. “He is one of my comrades. I will not fight him.”
“Oh.” She frowned, then brightened. “Will you fight the mage?”
“Mage?” The other knight brushed an errant lock of hair from his face and looked at the slumbering bundle. “He must be sorely tired to sleep through all this.”
“She’s put him under,” Huma explained.
A sigh. The knight seemed to expect this. “Why?”
The nymph pouted. “I do not like him. He is one of the dreamers I showed you.”
“Is he now?” Buoron straightened, his interest keenly awakened. “Which one?”
“The one who keeps dying.”
Huma’s eyes narrowed. At one point in their travels, Magius had revealed that his death scene now repeated itself constantly in his dreams. The nymph could not have known that. Or could she? Did she really see others’ dreams?
“Release him,” the rider ordered.
“Do you not want to sit with me?” She shifted all too purposefully. Buoron’s face reddened again.
“No. Leave us. This is important.”