The black-clad figure stumbled away, attempting to wrest the sword from his opponent as he did so. The warlord stumbled, dropped his ax, and tripped. On his hands and knees, he gave a death rattle.
Then, the warlord’s maddening sound reverted to something more familiar—and chilling. While Huma watched, spellbound, Crynus slowly lifted himself to his feet, turned toward Huma, and smiled.
The mortal wound across the warlord’s neck was little more than a scar. He seemed—proud.
“I cannot die, Knight of Solamnia. I will heal instantly. I am, as I said, the greatest commander my lady has. My death would be a terrible blow to her. Thus I demanded of Galan Dracos this protection. At first, his attempt was only partially successful—almost to my eternal regret. Thus our foreshortened battle. My men would have taken you, but I wanted you for myself and they would not dare go against my wishes. I wanted you for what you had almost done.”
The battle ax came at Huma again. The knight was fully on the defensive now, for how does one slay an opponent who heals instantly? Crynus had the strength of many and stamina to match.
The warlord laughed at Huma’s efforts to dodge him and stay alive. Crynus was being openly careless, allowing his swings to go wild, taunting the knight with his immortality.
“I had expected more of a fight from you, young knight. You disappoint me.”
Huma backed into a tree. Crynus screamed as he swung the ax. The deadly blade narrowly missed Huma as the knight dove at the warlord. Behind him, the ax cut deep into the tree. The two collapsed into a heap and struggled. It was evident to Huma that he did not have the strength to match the warlord. Crynus pushed the knight away and tried to strangle him, but Huma kicked with his knee and threw his adversary off-balance. Both scrambled to their feet and faced one another. Huma still had his sword. The warlord was weaponless.
“What are you waiting for?” the ebony-armored commander gloated. “Run me through. I will still kill you with my hands.”
Huma tried to stall while his mind raced for ideas. “How is it your army functions without you? Aren’t you afraid they will blunder?”
Crynus laughed shortly. “Dracos is a competent commander. Besides, the time has come when my leadership can be spared. It is simply a matter of mopping up those who remain around Vingaard Keep. I leave such minor details to my staff.”
The battle ax lay only a short distance away. Huma took a step toward the weapon. If only he could get the ax.
Crynus screamed and threw himself on Huma’s blade. The knight released his hold and leaped for the battle ax. The warlord’s movements slowed as he attempted to pull the sword from his body. Huma picked up the battle ax and turned back to his opponent. Seemingly in no pain, the warlord began extricating the blade from his body.
Huma raised the ax. Crynus turned toward him.
The cut was clean and the helmeted head of the warlord went flying. The warlord’s body slumped to its knees. Huma threw down the battle ax with distaste. This was not his way.
The headless corpse rose to its feet again. All color drained from Huma’s face. With definite precision, the hands of the decapitated creature removed the broadsword and tossed it away. Huma could see the wound healing itself. Even the armor, like a second skin, sealed itself. Huma waited for the thing to turn to him, but it was as if he had never existed, for the headless body began to walk off, toward where the warlord’s head had flown.
Huma could run, he knew, but the warlord would follow, never tiring.
“SARGAS!”
The cry came from the direction of the undead Crynus. Huma scooped up his sword. He knew of only one who would give such an oath.
If Kaz were around, the others were likely to be nearby. And the Dragonlance—
Of course!
Huma broke through the foliage. There was Kaz astride his horse, the minotaur’s mouth agape. The others were nowhere to be seen. The minotaur’s eyes stretched wide as the body of Crynus neared the disembodied head, which wobbled and tipped as if it still functioned.
“Kaz! It must not reach the head!”
The minotaur urged his horse forward—at the abomination that called itself Crynus.
The warhorse charged forward until it was within six feet of the headless Crynus, then abruptly came to a halt, shrieking. Kaz wasted no time. He jumped off the panicked steed and raced the body for the head.
Huma, meanwhile, had returned to the Dragonlance. The knight picked up the shaft.
“Huuummmmaaa!”
Kaz burst through the foliage, nearly impaling himself on the Dragonlance. In his right hand he held a grisly prize, which still vibrated with ghastly life. Behind the minotaur came the sounds of something thrashing toward them with great purpose.
“Drop it!” Huma indicated the head. “Over there! Quickly!”
The minotaur tossed the head in front of the tip of the Dragonlance just as a gauntleted hand came into sight.
The headless body froze and then dove to the side before they could impale it.
“It knows!” said the minotaur with a snort.
Worse yet, as the body rose, it held out one hand, clutching the fallen and forgotten battle ax.
“This is madness,” Kaz muttered.
“WHAT is going on here?” cried a new voice.
Both Huma and Kaz looked up as the silver dragon hovered above them. She appeared drawn, and one of her forelegs hung limply, but much power still resided within her.
She turned her gaze from the two and stared at the horrible creature. “Is that—?”
The body reached for its head.
“Paladine!” the silver dragon uttered in shock. She inhaled sharply even as Crynus put down the battle ax and picked up his head. The arms of the monstrosity were raising the head high even as she unleashed a torrent of flame.
Dragonflame engulfed the warlord. The body wobbled, sank to its knees, and both head and trunk vanished in the purifying flame. Within seconds, no sign of the unliving Crynus could be seen within the miniature inferno.
The silver dragon landed in the clearing and readied herself for a second strike. “That should be the end of that thing,” she said.
“Wait!” Kaz cried. He rushed to the fire and picked up the battle ax, which had escaped the blast. He tossed the ax into the fire—then raced away as the weapon exploded. Bits of metal and wood scattered through the forest. Kaz cursed as a tiny piece of metal struck him on the shoulder.
“Sar—Gods! I cannot leave you alone at any time, Huma!” The two rose and dusted themselves off. The silver dragon, meanwhile, blew out the fire with a cold blast that left ice clinging to the nearest trees.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Huma said to her.
Her shoulders slumped from exhaustion. “The chill and the paralysis are among our normal abilities. The flame—the flame is possible for any dragon save the cowardly, ice-dwelling white, but it requires much of us—and I am afraid I overexerted myself. I must rest.”
Huma nodded understanding, then glanced around. “Kaz! Where are Buoron and Magius? Where are the Dragonlances?”
“Where I left them, I suppose. When we saw the dragons fall in the distance, I volunteered to go ahead and see if you were still alive.”
“Then you didn’t SEE them?”
“Who?”
“We must get to them, fast!” Huma turned to the silver dragon, but the great beast was slumped on the ground. Between the multiple wounds received from Charr, the fall from which she had cushioned Huma, and the tremendous final effort she had expended on the rampaging Crynus, she had reached her limit.
“Can we leave you here?” he asked.
Shining eyes opened and regarded him. “I will be all right. I’m sorry I can be of no assistance.”
Kaz retrieved his horse, the largest of their mounts. Once Huma was secure, Kaz urged the animal onward.