Without the High Warrior in command, Huma suddenly realized, he could never return to the mountain.
Chapter 18
The rain did not let up that night. Exhausted as he was, Huma could not sleep. Like Lord Oswal, he saw some significance in the sudden change from perpetual cloud cover to the incessant rain that so affected nerves as time passed.
He heard horses trotting past. Even in the dead of night, there was always activity. Some men slept, others worked. Vingaard Keep would never be caught off-guard.
A returning patrol, he decided. The sounds dwindled off in the direction of the stables. Huma wondered what news, if any, they would bring. Had the lines backed up even farther? Would the knights soon be able to view the front from the Keep itself? How long before the pincer finally closed upon the cradle of the knighthood?
Huma stood up slowly, so as not to disturb those around him in the common quarters shared by Knights of the Crown. The building was essentially one great room with row upon row of hard, flat beds and small storage areas for each occupant. As the knights slept in shifts, the room was never full. Also, many were away from the Keep for one reason or another. Only the higher-ranking knights had quarters of their own.
A breath of fresh air, he decided, would do him good. With careful steps, he maneuvered around his fellows and eventually made his way to the door.
The air was cool and the wind a little more brisk than he had imagined. He breathed in deeply, thankful for the moment when he could briefly relax from all the sorrows and confusion. Huma prayed that all would go well tomorrow.
He blinked. His eyes began to play tricks on him, and he was sure for a brief moment that a dark figure had moved near Lord Oswal’s chambers, just behind the two guards. He considered alerting someone, but neither guard seemed disturbed, and when he looked again there was no sign of the supposed intruder. Huma had no desire to bring ridicule upon himself. Not now. He stared out into the night and, after a few minutes, retired. Sleep came more swiftly this time.
The next day passed far too quickly. It had been Huma’s intention to steer clear of the other knights, at least until the question of leadership was resolved. Too much had happened to him, and he did not trust himself to remain neutral on the subject. What he said, he knew, would be a reflection on Lord Oswal, who had always stood by him. Even Rennard might be affected.
Yet Lord Oswal summoned Huma just two hours before the Knightly Council was to meet. The Knight of the Rose who brought the message eyed Huma with great curiosity, but, loyal as he was to the High Warrior, he asked no questions.
As Huma was crossing to Lord Oswal’s quarters, he was confronted by the very figure he had intended to avoid.
“They told me you were alive. I had my doubts, though, until I saw you just now.”
Bennett was clad in formal attire, including a purple cloak bearing the standard of both the knighthood and his family’s personal holdings. A black sash ran diagonally across his breastplate. Even now, with the rain still lightly falling and the true night almost upon them, he seemed to gleam. Regardless of all else, Bennett was his father’s son. The hawklike features were a copy of the elder knight.
“My apologies, Lord Bennett.” The family holdings had been ruled equally by Oswal and Trake until the latter’s rise to Grand Master. Now, as Trake’s heir, Bennett held that title with his uncle. As Oswal had no heirs of his own, the holdings would someday be under the rule of only one man. “I had meant to offer my sympathies sooner—”
“Do not play me for a fool, goatherder,” Bennett rejoined. “You have stayed away from me because we have ever been enemies. I still do not believe you belong among us, but my own good heart has made your ouster all but impossible now. Little did I know when I praised you—posthumously, I thought—that you would return.”
Huma’s entire body felt taut, but he would not allow himself to be provoked by Bennett. He was sure much of the anger in the son of the late Grand Master was due to his father’s untimely death.
“I have never been your enemy, milord. Rather, I have always admired you, despite your protest over my selection.” Bennett’s face actually evidenced mild surprise as Huma spoke. “Your bearing, your skill, your ability to command under the most adverse conditions—you are what I strive to be, what I may never be. I only ask for the opportunity to do my duty.”
Bennett’s mouth clamped shut. He stared at Huma briefly, then muttered, “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” Huma raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
The newest Lord of Baxtrey, though, had already turned away. All Huma could do was watch him vanish into the midst of the Keep.
Huma proceeded to meet with Lord Oswal.
Rennard was there. Huma interrupted them as they inspected a map. Lord Oswal was pointing to a spot near the north. They looked up as Huma was admitted, and the High Warrior smiled thinly. Rennard merely nodded.
Lord Oswal rolled up the map. “Were you away from the Crown’s general quarters?”
“No. I had the misfortune of confronting your nephew, milord.”
The elder knight shook his head. He was looking much more drained than he had the night before. “Yes. Pay him no mind, Huma. He is unsettled by the fact that you’ve seemingly come back from the dead.”
“He still hates what I am.”
“Then he is a fool,” Rennard suddenly interjected. “You have proved to be ten times the knight he is.”
“I thank you, though I do not believe that.”
“Then you are also a fool.”
Lord Oswal interrupted. “The last thing we need is to fight among ourselves,” The High Warrior put a hand to his forehead, nearly knocking over a lit candle in the process. Huma reached for him, but Oswal waved him away. “I’m fine. Didn’t seem to get enough sleep last night, though. A bad night for insomnia, I should think.”
“Will you be able to go through with the Council meeting?” asked Rennard.
“What choice have I? Perhaps it’s only my personal opinion, but if my nephew—who I must point out thinks he is doing what is best—has any control over the next Grand Master, we will be plunged into disaster.”
The intensity of the High Warrior’s opinion of his nephew surprised Huma. He had known they did not get along, but this . . . “Why so?”
“Bennett, like many of us, is too caught up in the legends of the knighthood. He is the kind of leader who will have every able knight in Vingaard Keep attacking in one massive, heroic charge that will end in the death of all.”
“Would he?” Huma’s tone was doubtful. Even against the darkness, Bennett appeared calculating and in full command of his senses.
“He would. You never see Bennett in a command meeting; he is the one for lighting strikes or waves of destruction, never solid, long-term strategies. Since Trake’s death, I think he is even more determined to do something momentous—to honor his father’s memory.”
“Huma may have trouble believing that, but I have known Bennett longer. I would concur,” added Rennard.
Lord Oswal looked up at Huma. “Another thing. He would never believe your story of enchanted swords, imprisoned dragons, and god-created challenges that hold the key to victory. I do. Call it faith in Paladine, but I do.”
The elder knight leaned forward suddenly, holding a hand against his head.
“Rest. I need some rest,” muttered Oswal.
“Help me with him, Huma.”
Together, the two knights led the High Warrior to his bed. As they helped him lie down, Lord Oswal took hold of Rennard. “You must see to it that I am awake in time for the Council. Is that understood?”