Lord Oswal rose at that point. “They’ll risk it, curse them! They’re knights, not skulking thieves! I’ll order them to take the lances and use them!”
“And they’ll die,” Avondale threw in.
“What’s that?” The two commanders locked eyes.
“They’ll die, Grand Master. With little or no faith, they’ll simply die. It’s not a matter of whether the power of Paladine flows within the Dragonlances, The hand that guides the weapon also must believe or else reactions will be a little too slow, a little off the mark. They must have faith, as we do, or they will lose because they will see these lances as they have seen all lances—objects that will bend, break, or shatter on the hides of the dark dragons.”
“But a Dragonlance—”
The Ergothian cleric held up a hand for silence. “We have twenty Dragonlances, correct?”
“Plus the footman’s lance,” Huma quickly added.
“Twenty lances. All we need are twenty men. I think Paladine is watching over us. If there are only twenty Dragonlances, then there is a reason. If we are to obtain more, Paladine will see that we do. If our faith is strong, twenty lances or a thousand, we will triumph.”
Lord Oswal looked at Huma. “He’s right.”
Huma studied those assembled in the room. Kaz, Buoron, and Avondale would follow him on this. He needed only sixteen other men. “Let there just be the twenty, then.”
More than one eyebrow was raised at that. Huma did not wait for questions, instead plunging immediately into his thoughts.
“Buoron, Kaz, milord Avondale. I know that you three will join with me. You know the Dragonlance; you know what it can do. If twenty lances are all that stand between us and defeat by the Dark Queen, then we should thank Paladine we have even those and use them to the utmost.”
“You should have been a cleric, Huma, for your faith is stronger than any I have ever known.” There was no mockery in Lord Guy’s tone.
There was a knock on the Grand Master’s chamber door, and one of the Knights of the Rose who made up the ruling knight’s guard entered. “Grand Master, Knight Bennett wishes to speak with you.”
“I summoned him from the Keep walls some time ago. Where has he been?”
“He did not say, milord.”
Lord Oswal glanced at Huma and then nodded slowly. “Allow him to enter.”
“Milord.” The guard spoke to someone in the hall and then stood at attention. Bennett, looking more like his father than Huma had ever seen him, stalked imperiously into the room. He saluted his uncle deferentially and acknowledged the presence of the others politely, though he stared long and hard at the Ergothian commander.
“What is it, Bennett?”
“Unc—Grand Master, I have been studying the Dragonlances.”
The elder knight’s expression darkened. “Who gave you permission?”
Some of the imperiousness vanished. “I did it of my own accord. I could not help it, after you spoke to me of it following Huma’s—his disappearance.”
Bennett looked at Huma as he talked, but the latter could read nothing in the stiff, hawklike features.
“And?”
His nephew’s eyes widened, the mask fell away, and both Huma and Lord Oswal were astonished at the wonder that spread over Bennett’s face as he spoke. “They were smooth to the touch—so smooth they must cut the air effortlessly. I’ve never seen a point so sharp, nor a metal so bright—so alive. I’ve heard that many doubt the authenticity of the lances, but I cannot believe but these were sent to us by Paladine, through his chosen champion.”
For the first time ever, Huma felt a deep respect emanating from the Grand Master’s nephew, and directed at Huma himself.
Lord Oswal was no less surprised. Kaz snorted quietly in derision, but the look Bennett threw him caused him to stop immediately.
“I want to be one of them, Grand Master. I counted but twenty and I know not if we will have any more, but I want to be one of them. It is what I have trained for—to give myself in service to the Triumvirate and to Paladine, I will face any test if needed to prove I am worthy.” Bennett exhaled and his shoulders slumped. He had bared himself to all present and now awaited judgment.
The Grand Master looked from Huma to Avondale and then back to his nephew.
“Knight Bennett, you are, I see, the son of my brother—my brother before the strain of leadership tore us apart. If you can but remain as you are now, I see in you what many have always believed—that you will be among the first and best in our ranks.” Bennett’s shoulders stiffened in unconcealed pride. Oswal continued, “If you would truly be what we all strive to be, then I ask that you make your example this knight here—” he pointed at a stunned Huma—“for he is the embodiment of our teachings, whether or not he believes it so himself.”
“Am I then—”
“You are, and I charge you with a special task. Find others like yourself, from all three Orders and numbering fifteen total, who are willing to believe in the strength and will of Paladine and who will ride the skies with the Dragonlance before them.”
Bennett nearly stumbled toward the door, then turned to his uncle. Lord Oswal waved him off. The Knight of the Rose departed with haste.
Bennett did exactly as he was told. He sought volunteers from all three Orders and chose them based on merit and belief, not whether they were loyal to him, as he would have done prior to his father’s death. Among the volunteers were veterans and near-novices. Included by Bennett, surprisingly enough, were three knights who lacked limbs or were permanently disabled, all from the war. Had this been peacetime, Lord Oswal would have given these men work in the Keep, something to keep them active but away from awkward situations. Now, though, every man who could fight was needed. Men who had lost a leg could still ride and swing a sword. One useless arm still meant that the knight could use his other. A Knight of Solamnia did not quit until he was either triumphant or slain. Had they eliminated such men from the ranks, the available forces in the Keep would have been cut by nearly a quarter.
With the retreat of the Dragonqueen’s forces from the vicinity of the Keep, lines of supply reopened, albeit sporadically. Awaiting their first opportunity, knights in the southern reaches shipped food and raw materials. It was dangerous going, for the ogres and dragons still harried the routes, and some wagons never completed their journey.
The mountains to the west were ominously quiet, and Huma found himself staring at them, on and off. Magius was still out there, and Huma still felt the desire to attempt some sort of rescue. Waiting in the Keep for whatever Galan Dracos and his mistress plotted next irked him.
It might have been easier if Gwyneth had been with him, but she had not returned since that one night. Huma had taken to conversing with the silver dragon. They spoke only when alone together, for the presence of the other dragons guarding the Keep—and especially the silver dragon’s two siblings, who watched Huma intently each time he came around—embarrassed him.
She listened to his every word and answered his questions with such intensity that it was often easy to forget he was speaking with a creature vastly larger and more ancient than he. At the same time, she seemed filled with a sadness that Huma was never able to identify. He pressed her only once on it. When Huma had probed too far, the great dragon had turned and moved away without another word.
Huma could not explain the reasoning behind the feeling that had surged through him then, but he somehow knew that the sadness which had become so much a part of the leviathan was due to him.
He was careful never to bring up the point again, for fear of what truth he might discover.
Three days passed, and then it was as if the heavens themselves had erupted. Knights in the Keep pointed skyward, and the murmuring began. Though they would deny fear, many turned pale as they remembered the last time the sky had looked like this.