A dragon’s face stared up from the water.
He jumped away from the water’s edge and realized that the dragon’s face had been a reflection. He looked up with rapidly widening eyes. Huma had reached his destination.
A great stone dragon, six times his size, flanked the pool, and Huma saw that it had once had a counterpart on the opposite end. Only the pedestal and part of the head remained of the second dragon. Both appeared to have been carved out of marble or some similar stone.
The one still standing appeared to be a silver dragon, while the fragmented one had been a gold dragon.
Huma drank his fill. When he had finished, he looked straight ahead and noticed a doorway hidden by the tangle of plant life and literally cut into the mountain itself. He moved closer and studied the doorway. Tiny figures had been carved in relief around the opening, most of them weathered away. Some, protected by the heavy covering of plant growth, perhaps, were still quite recognizable—at least as definite shapes. Huma wished desperately to know what the symbols might mean.
Pushing aside thick vines, he peered inside. It should have been dark inside, yet he could see a faint glow within. Almost as if someone had lit torches to guide his way, he thought uneasily.
Sighing in resignation, he stepped into the entrance of the mountain, expecting the cavelike entryway to be damp and moldy. Instead, it was as if he had stepped into the council chamber of Vingaard Keep. The entrance was warm and dry, and the walls and ceiling were smooth.
It took him some time to travel the length of the stark hallway, his attention concentrated on the flickering light ahead. He completed the final stretch of the corridor. Belatedly, he remembered his sword and removed the weapon from its sheath. The corridor opened into a great hall, once the court of some great king or emperor, Huma decided. It stretched high; it was a natural cavern carved to perfection. The light was indeed from torches, and Huma wondered who had lit them.
Metallic statues of armored knights lined each wail. They were lifeless—and very lifelike. They could almost be sentries commanded to sleep until needed—or the undead ordered to slay any who intruded.
Huma stepped into the center of the room and stared at the floor. Now he could see the pattern etched into the stone. It, above all else, gave him heart, for it was a huge representation of Paladine himself, the Platinum Dragon. The dragon curled from one end of the room to the other and, if the knight was any judge, the pattern was indeed made of platinum. Huma marveled over the intricate work.
His gaze roved to the single piece of furniture in this cavern—a high throne, carved from wood such as Huma had never seen, wood that seemed to glow with life. The edges of the throne were encrusted with jewels, and these, too, gleamed from the light of the torches.
Childlike wonder swept over him as he walked around the chamber. The armor, he noted, included many of the various types worn by the knighthood over the ages. He opened more than one visor and peered inside, finding nothing but dust.
At last, he simply stood and gave thanks to Paladine for allowing him to proceed this far. He also prayed that the Triumvirate would watch over his two companions, despite their differences. Then he knelt in reverence before the throne.
His vigil, though, was interrupted almost before it began. A pounding sound, as of metal upon metal, resounded from one of the darkened corridors. Huma came to his feet and peered around, trying to discern from which of the corridors the sound originated.
The pounding died even as he stood, and Huma was unable to fathom its direction.
Huma remembered where he had heard a sound like that before—back at Vingaard Keep.
It was the sound a heavy hammer made when beating hot metal into shape at a forge.
Chapter 16
A forge. Huma wondered what that might mean. He had expected any of a number of things here, but not an active smithy. For that matter, who held that hammer? Ghosts of ages past? Perhaps the dwarves had not left this place after all.
His eyes turned back toward the throne, and he discovered that he was no longer alone. Huma’s first thought was that the gray man had returned, for the robe and hood, which covered all identity, were indeed dun-colored. But this new visitor was much more slight.
“You have come.” Her voice was low and the cloak almost muffled it, but it was indeed a female voice. Small, feminine hands emerged from the billowing sleeves of the cloak, and the woman reached up to take hold of the hood. Slowly, she pulled it back, revealing long, thick, flowing hair and a face that both thrilled and shocked the knight, for he had known it and longed for it.
“Gwyneth.”
She smiled. “I had thought perhaps you had forgotten me.”
“Never.”
The smile widened, then vanished abruptly. “I knew it would be you. When I first laid eyes on you in the—lying there, battling a mind-killing wound. Yes, your wound was far worse than you know. No bones had been broken, but your mind . . . Had not healers taken care of you as quickly as they did, you would have lost all senses permanently.”
“Paladine,” he breathed. To be struck deaf, dumb, and blind—or worse. “Gwyneth. What is this place?”
“Call it a gift of love. It was built by those with great love for Paladine and his house. They wanted nothing in return. It was magnificent in its day.” She had a disconcerting way of talking as if she had actually been here in the past, Huma thought.
“Is this what Magius sought?”
“In a sense. Your friend is still a good man, Huma, despite his obsession. It may still consume him. Whether he believes it or not, the future he faced during his Test was nothing more than an intricate fabrication. The Tests are designed to highlight one’s greatest weaknesses, and I fear that he did not pass as easily as the Conclave hoped.”
“Then all of this has nothing to do with what he said.”
Gwyneth looked surprised. “Oh, but it does! The idea of this place has been passed to man for centuries, ever since the first war with the Dragonqueen. It has not changed much. The Conclave knew the ego of their student, Magius. The greatest fault of your childhood companion is that, like the elves, he sees himself as the power to save the world. What better way of testing him than to make him fail at the greatest of all tasks.”
Huma was silent as his mind digested this. Finally, he asked, “What of me? Magius seemed to think I am important to changing his future.”
“You are important, but not in the way he thinks. What has been sought so long is a single man or woman who embodies all that Paladine has attempted to teach this world. Some have come close, but all failed in the end.” As his eyes widened, she nodded sadly. “You are not the first to come here, Huma. I pray—oh Paladine, I pray—that you are the one sought. Were it not Krynn itself that would suffer, I would tell you to turn from here now, before it is too late.”
The knight stiffened. “Even if you told me to, I would not. I cannot. Not—and remain what I am.”
“Is the knighthood so much to you?”
“Not the knighthood. What it teaches.” He had never thought of it in those terms before.
Gwyneth looked pleased, but merely said, “If only there were others like you, even in the knighthood.”
“Gwyneth, where are Kaz and Magius?”
“They will be watched. Have no fear, Huma.” She paused. “It is time to start, I think.”
“Start?” Huma looked around, half-expecting the room to fill with clerics and mages ready to perform some ceremony. Instead, Gwyneth stepped down from the throne and moved toward him. Although dressed simply and without expression on her face, she looked more beautiful than he had ever thought possible. Buoron’s nymph paled in comparison.
She wavered only momentarily under his gaze. Huma tried fruitlessly to understand what was revealed in that lapse. When Gwyneth was no more than an arm’s length from him, she pointed at the darkened corridors.