“Sargas,” whispered Kaz. Nobody reprimanded him for the quiet exclamation.
It was, of course, Magius who broke their concentration. He shifted uneasily on his mount, his gaze fixed, for the most part, on the peaks within the heart of the chain. “We will accomplish nothing sitting here gaping. Are you prepared to go on, Huma?”
Huma blinked. “Yes. I guess we might as well. Kaz?”
The minotaur gazed up at the peaks—and finally smiled. “I am quite familiar with such landscape, my friend. I have no qualms.”
“We will wait here for you for three days, just as a precaution,” Buoron said.
Magius sniffed and looked disdainfully away. “It is not necessary.”
“Nevertheless, we will. What you say matters not.”
“Let us go, then,” Huma quickly put in. He had a great desire to get this over and done with—if that were possible.
“Agreed.” Magius urged his horse forward.
“Huma,” Buoron said somberly, and held out a hand. His face was much like the mountains before them—hard-featured, but still admirable in its own way. “May Paladine watch over you.”
“And you as well.”
The other knights nodded their farewells as Huma passed. Huma did not look back as he rode, afraid that the desire to turn back from what might well be a foolish quest would ensnare him. Yet he showed no sign of fear to Magius or Kaz. A knight such as Bennett would have ridden into the mountains prepared to face the Dragonqueen herself, if need be. Huma knew he could never do that, but he would do his best to ride with dignity.
All too soon they entered the mountain range. The peaks stood all around them, fantastic walls and barriers that seemed ready—waiting?—to close in and wipe out all trace of the tiny creatures who had dared to infest them.
“Mountains such as these have always made me realize how an insect must feel,” Kaz commented.
Ahead of them, Magius laughed scornfully. “These are mere lumps of rock. Impressive at first, but no more deserving of such reverence than the tiniest pebble on the beach.”
“You have never truly known the mountains, then. Be careful, lest they bury you beneath their insignificance.”
A cry rose from somewhere within the range of mountains. It was a harsh, predatory cry, and all three riders glanced around quickly.
As the seconds passed and nothing materialized, Kaz turned to Magius. “What was that? Are you familiar with the sound?”
The mage had regained his composure, as well as his arrogance. “A bird, perhaps. Possibly even a dragon. It would not surprise me to discover that the latter live here.”
“Here?” Huma had sudden visions of great red dragons swooping down on the hapless group. Magius might be able to hold them off temporarily, but neither Kaz nor Huma would have much of a chance. A broadsword was of little use against the armored hide of a dragon.
The trail was a twisting series of slopes, ledges, and precarious turns. Buoron had said that dwarves, long since departed from this region, had created the path, the only one that granted travelers some hope of emerging on the opposite side. The knights traveled the mountains as little as possible, not because they were afraid but because they knew that even the few brigands of the region steered clear of the chain.
The wind whipped Huma’s cloak wildly around, and he was forced at last to pin it around him. The chill wind created eerie sounds, like the calling of strange, unimaginable beasts.
Magius still had the lead, since he was the only one with any real idea where he was going. Huma was searching for a peak that matched the one on the tapestry, while Kaz was content merely to ride and let the others do the work. He cared little about what the magic-user was searching for. His own health, and Huma’s, was all that truly mattered. The Red Robe could perish for all Kaz cared.
They rode around yet another turn and—came to a dead stop. Magius sputtered curses. Kaz laughed, despite the sinister look in the spellcaster’s eyes.
The path lay buried beneath tons of rubble. Huma looked up and saw a new crevice in the side of one of the mountains. He tried to imagine the power required to create such a landslide.
“I’ll not be cheated!” Magius stood in the saddle, crying out at the mountains. He whirled on the other two and said, “There were two diverging paths a short distance behind us. See if either curls back toward this one. I’ll see if there is anything that can be done here.”
The minotaur did not care to take orders from Magius, but Huma quieted him. It would not do for Kaz to cross the mage now.
While the spellcaster investigated the avalanche, Huma and Kaz rode back. The paths that Magius had spoken about seemed fairly unused, and one had even been obscured by the fragile shrubbery prevalent in the mountain chain. Huma chose the overgrown trail.
Kaz broke off to investigate the other path. Huma watched him disappear, then he climbed off his horse. The footing on the path was too tricky, and he had no desire to endanger himself and his horse. Better to leave the animal behind. If the path proved steadier ahead, he would return for the horse and investigate further.
It required the use of his broadsword to clear the path of foliage. Although the individual plants were weak, they grew in such profusion that it was like cutting into thick bales of hay. Huma was forced to chop continuously for several minutes before he made progress.
First glance indicated that the path continued a rocky, upward climb that made riding impossible and walking a slow, dragging tedium.
Suddenly, he stepped onto a gentle downward slope partly hidden by the vegetation. Huma smiled in relief. This path seemed to circle around to meet up with the original path beyond the avalanche. After a lengthy inspection, he finally concluded that the path was not only passable but that it would lead them more directly to the peaks Magius sought. It was also, he was pleased to note, a much less windblown path. The knight turned back, increasing his pace. By this time, he was sure that Kaz had completed his own search. He doubted also that Magius would have found a way around the avalanche in the meantime. Huma’s path looked to be the best—and perhaps the only—choice.
He came to the meeting of the two slopes and stumbled back onto the rocky part of the trail. Huma turned a corner—and stopped dead before a great wall of rock. “What—?” he muttered, his brow raised in wonder. He looked up the length of the formation and laid a hand on its surface. It was all too real. He had to have taken a wrong turn, he realized.
Huma backtracked, and stood in puzzlement. Every indication was that he had followed the correct path the first time. Yet the rock formation looked as though it had been in place for years. Moss dotted its surface. The formation was quite weathered, almost round on top.
Finally, Huma gave up and returned to the other intersection he had discovered. Despite the feeling that this was the wrong route, he began to follow it. As he progressed, his confidence rose, for the trail seemed to lead back to where he wished to be. Then it abruptly curved toward the opposite direction. Soon, Huma was following a trail of twists and turns that kept his head spinning. The knight came to a halt. This path was leading him farther away. He grumbled to himself and then turned around to retrace his trail.
The path he had traveled, which he knew should have twisted to the right, now twisted to the left.
This was all wrong. Huma knew he could have made a mistake before, but not this time; he’d been especially cautious, painstakingly noting the way. Buoron and others had said many travelers never left these mountains; now he could see why. It was as if the mountains themselves moved against the unwary, although Huma knew it must really be the work of a mortal entity. His thoughts turned to Galan Dracos, but this did not seem to fit the renegade’s style. He was being herded, he realized; Dracos would have captured him by now. No, this was magic with another purpose.