“Be ready, Huma,” the silver dragon called. “If I can, there are a couple of tricks that I can make use of, but the Dragonlance is our best hope of defeating this obscenity once and for all.”
The two dragons battled for superiority. Higher and higher they rose, neither gaining an advantage. Huma felt the silver dragon shudder as she drew a deep breath. Was she tiring? he wondered. Charr, sensing this, seemed almost to smile in triumph.
Huma’s companion suddenly unleashed a cone-shaped mist that enveloped the front portion of Charr. The black froze in mid-flight and began to fall earthward.
“Huma!” the silver dragon cried hoarsely. “I did not strike him directly, and he is terribly strong-willed. We must attack before he recovers from the paralysis.”
Even as she spoke, she slowed to dive. Huma gripped the saddle with one hand, the Dragonlance with the other, and the neck of his companion with both legs. Had he not ridden before and faced so many trials since then, he was certain that he would have blacked out long before now.
As they dove, Huma watched the black slowly return to life. Charr was already slowing his descent. Astride him, Crynus ranted and waved his battle ax and pointed at the knight and silver dragon above them. Chair’s head turned slowly upward. This time the two dragons came together and fought to the maximum.
The Dragonlance pinned the sinister dragon by its shoulder. Blood dripped freely from that wound.
As the two massive heads thrust at one another, time and time again, the riders drew near enough to strike. Huma, hampered by the weight of the lance, could not draw his sword. Crynus swung his two-headed battle ax, barely missing the top of Huma’s helmet.
Both dragons had become splashed with blood, and it was difficult to decide who had suffered more. The necks of both bore dozens of cuts, bites, and gashes. The black dragon had been raked in the front but had managed to slice apart some of the lower membrane on the silver one’s right wing.
The shoulder wound and the earlier wound to his wing were beginning to tell on Charr. He sank a little, and the silver dragon succeeded in giving the side of his neck a nasty set of gashes. Once more the Dragonlance dug into Chair’s shoulder.
In desperation, the black inhaled sharply, and Huma, afraid that his companion did not notice it, kicked her sharply in the sides. Whether because of his warning or not, her snout came down hard on Chair’s own, clamping the dark dragon’s mouth shut. The acidic blast that Charr had been ready to exhale found itself stopped and reversed. The black shivered and shook, suffocating and burning at the same time.
The frenzy of his wounding sent his claws jabbing deep into the torso of the silver dragon. Charr stopped flying, as his entire system reeled from the acid and the loss of oxygen. All four combatants found themselves falling.
“My wings will slow us, but we still will strike with great severity!” the silver dragon shouted. “If I can, I will shift so as to act as a cushion for you.”
Crynus, meanwhile, seemed unconcerned with the fall. Even now, he struggled to reach Huma or the silver dragon. The wind prevented him from doing too much, and in anger or madness, the warlord unhooked himself from the safety of the saddle—and promptly was sucked away from the rest of the group.
He did not even scream.
Huma stared at the vanishing figure, unable to believe the insanity of the black-armored warlord.
The trees rushed up toward them. Chair’s grip suddenly became limp, and the silver dragon at last was able to release herself.
By then, it was too late. They dropped into the treetops with a tremendous crash.
Chapter 23
When Huma awoke, he felt bruised over every inch of his body, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.
He stood up and gazed at the wholesale destruction. The force of two such tremendous masses as the dragons had been enough to level much of the timber in the immediate area.
Charr’s inert form lay to one side, its neck snapped. The hideous face still had a toothy, upside-down smile. The deadly claws pointed uselessly into the air.
There was no sign of the silver dragon, even though at least some of the blood came from her. She must have moved under her own power, but to where?
Where, also, were his companions? Huma could hear no sounds and was disoriented as to what direction they must be in.
The Dragonlance and saddle lay nearby, where he supposed the silver dragon had fallen. The Dragonlance still gleamed brightly, and Huma felt a little better just to see it. At least one enemy rider and one red dragon remained—but where were they?
He could not very well carry the lance on his shoulders; it was more than twice his height. His only real option was to drag it. He looped some rope around the shield, tied it together, and then pulled it over his head and one arm. In his free arm, he held his sword, which had managed to survive the fall.
Dragging proved awkward, and Huma was barely away from the scene of destruction before he caught the lance on an upturned tree root. The knight put down his sword and began to work the very lengthy weapon around. It came loose suddenly, and Huma fell against a tree trunk. Every bruise in his body screamed, and more than a minute elapsed before he was able to sit up and coordinate his thoughts. The first thing he did was to reach for his blade. It proved to be an excellent decision.
The heavy ax struck the tree exactly at the level where his neck had been.
Huma tumbled forward as he grabbed his sword and attempted to untangle himself. To his surprise, no other attack was forthcoming. Instead, his attacker boomed forth with laughter.
“You can have all the time you need, Knight of Solamnia! It won’t do you a bit of good.”
Huma threw the rope down. He tightened his grip on the sword. He looked up to study his adversary—and shook his head, not believing what he saw. It had to be a trick!
Warlord Crynus was casually removing his battle ax from the tree trunk he had nearly severed. His plain ebony armor was dented and dirty in many places, but the warlord seemed in perfect health otherwise. His face remained hidden behind his visor, but his eyes glowed frost blue.
The tall, ominous figure should have been dead.
Crynus took a step forward. His deep voice hissed. “I am so pleased you survived, Huma of the Order of the Crown. You were lucky that day when we first met in the sky over that no-man’s land. By rights, I would’ve cleaved your head from your body. That accidental victory of yours never should have happened, and I have remembered ever since.”
One of the warlord’s heavy boots came down on the limb of a fallen tree and snapped it neatly. “I am the greatest of her infernal majesty’s commanders. She would have lost the war long ago if it had not been for me.”
“I have heard different,” Huma dared to say. “Some say the greatest is Galan Dracos.”
Crynus gave the double-bladed ax a practice swing. “He has his uses, but I distrust his loyalty.” The warlord paused and went on in a different tack. “Your thrust in that first, short encounter was a lucky one. As I said, that never should have happened.”
“Why not?”
“See for yourself, if you are fortunate enough.” The warlord charged Huma.
Huma ducked the first swing, and the ax bit into yet another tree. With incredible strength, the warlord turned the pull into a second attack, forcing the knight back as the ax suddenly came singing back over his head.
This time, Huma found an opening and thrust, but his aim was off, and the weapon deflected off the commander’s breastplate. Crynus laughed and renewed his vicious assault. Huma stumbled back and back as he sought to escape the continuing onslaught.
The ax missed Huma again by only inches. This time, though, the warlord had miscalculated, and the shaft of the ax struck hard against the side of a tree, bouncing out of Crynus’s hands. Daring everything, Huma lunged. This time, there was no mistaking the accuracy of his thrust. The sword came up and caught Crynus in the unprotected portion of his neck. Huma’s blade did not stop until it reached the back of the warlord’s helmet.