Huma rushed to the battlements, Kaz and Buoron close behind him. Both Huma and the minotaur stared through narrow eyes at the horror before them. Buoron, having come from the southwest outpost, had not been present at that time, but he studied the scene and then turned to his companions, seeing for the first time the looks on their faces.
Turning pale himself, he asked, “What does it mean? Why is it so black?”
The rolling darkness, which had nearly lost the war for the knighthood in that earlier battle, spread slowly toward the outermost lines of defense. The winds around the Keep were building to a pitch.
Chapter 26
“The Dragonlances! We must fly now!”
The others were gathering even as Huma and his companions entered the courtyard. Bennett looked to him as an aide might look to his commander. Here, Huma was in charge.
The dragons were there, also. They had had trouble in choosing who would join with the knights. Unlike the humans, all the dragons volunteered. It was the silver dragon who finally chose, she being most closely associated with the lances. Her choices were not questioned, for each of the volunteers was picked on the basis of past performance and physical endurance. There were silver ones, bronze ones—Bolt being the most vocal of these—and even a gold dragon.
More than enough saddles had been made and the well-trained knights were already finishing with that part of the preparations. Someone also had thought to secure the footman’s lance to the silver dragon Huma would be riding.
When all was ready, Huma turned to see everyone waiting. Then he grimaced, realizing that they were awaiting his orders. Even Lord Avondale, who Huma felt was certainly a more qualified flight leader, was deferring to him. Turning forward and assuring himself that all was secure, Huma kicked the silver dragon lightly and gave the signal to depart.
What an impressive sight, he thought, as he momentarily turned back to look. The twenty dragons made an arrowhead formation with Huma at the point; Kaz and Bolt were to his left, a little farther back, and Buoron was to his right. He could not see Lord Avondale, who was flying to the rear.
His thoughts were broken by the visage of the silver dragon as she turned to speak to him. “Huma, I ...” He looked ahead, expecting to see the Dragonqueen’s children breaking through the darkness. “Nothing. I—I merely wished to say you may count on me in all things.”
“I will always be thankful,” he shouted, for the wind was now so great that it roared in his ears, and he could not be sure how well she heard him. She had already turned away.
It became a battle merely to enter the curtain of blackness that had been raised by the followers of Galan Dracos. The winds were fierce. The riders were strapped down and the Dragonlances were hooked to their mounts for safety. Huma and the silver dragon were the first to enter and it was as if there were no Krynn. Sky and earth were gone. There was only the knight, his dragon, and his lance. No, Huma realized. There was more. Behind him, he could see the glow of the other Dragonlances. At first, Huma worried that they would shine like beacons to the forces of Takhisis. Then he saw how the lances ate away at the darkness, destroying the spell. It did not matter then whether they were seen or not. The darkness ceased to be a threat.
“We’re through!” the silver dragon shouted.
The world snapped back into existence. When Huma had wandered on foot, it seemed such an incredible distance, an endless darkness in which things not of this plane chittered and slunk toward their unseeing prey. Now, it seemed like nothing.
The enemy dragons were upon them.
The first came at Huma and the silver dragon as they emerged again into the light. One lone rider and dragon must have seemed easy prey for the red dragons, and the two of them turned from their brethren to deal with Huma. The other dragonriders began to emerge behind Huma, though, and the easy prey became the deadly hunter. The two overconfident reds fell swiftly, unable to break away in time. The others, blue, black, and red, came more hesitantly. It seemed to Huma that they attacked only for fear of their own mistress, a fear greater than that of the Dragonlances.
One of the twenty, Hallerin, a newly appointed but skilled Knight of the Crown, went down, burning from the acidic blast of his foe. The other knights had accounted for four of the enemy and the rest of the dark dragons turned in retreat, deciding to risk the wrath of their mistress.
Some knights wanted to chase after them, but Huma signaled against that idea by remaining on his present course. Huma’s target was the source of the shifting darkness.
Several times, they faced onslaughts of creatures of the air. There were dragons of nearly every color. At one point, they clashed with large, birdlike creatures with leonine jaws and three pairs of claws. Another dragonrider was lost to horrors that only could have been the mad creations of Dracos himself. Huma was particularly saddened by this loss, a scarred veteran of the Rose, named Marik Ogrebane. He had been one of the disabled knights and was the first to volunteer. Now only eighteen remained. As they flew, Huma memorized the place and circumstances of each death, hoping to mark the bravery of these men in some way, later on, in song or verse.
They were close, Huma knew, close to the source of the spell. He could feel it.
“I spy something, Huma,” said the silver dragon.
“Where?”
“Down there to the right”
He followed her gaze. There was nothing but a hill, barren but for a few bent and decaying trees, arranged almost in a pattern. It was certainly not what he was anticipating, and he told the silver dragon so.
She smiled knowingly. “Look not with your eyes, Huma. Look with the wisdom of Paladine. Have you ever seen trees growing in the form of a pentagram?”
The knight looked again—and realized how precise the pattern was. As he observed, the trees began to waver, as if they were not real. They did not fade, but twisted into brown-robed forms, like the mage who had attacked Huma in the woods in what seemed such a long time ago.
Now he saw them more precisely. Nearly a dozen figures squatted in the dirt, their heads down, their arms outstretched toward the center of the pentagram, where one of their number stood with arms raised high.
“Shall we take them? They seem unaware,” Kaz shouted from the side. Bolt eagerly expressed similar sentiments.
“I want to take them alive if possible.”
Kaz snorted. “If possible?”
Bolt plunged ahead—and barely missed being grievously wounded as something rose and shattered the air currents, as if lightning had emanated from the earth. Kaz and Bolt circled for another try and this time, when the attack came, Bolt easily dodged it. A crack of lightning split the heavens and struck the hill. When the smoke cleared, a small crater marked where the figures had been.
Huma turned at the sound of laughter coming from the silver dragon. “Thus his nickname, Bolt. All bronze dragons are capable of that trick, but only a few have such precision as he has shown, and none are his equal.”
Their defenses shattered, the renegade mages were suddenly active. They rose as one and turned toward the newcomers. Though Huma could not be sure from this distance, he thought their faces remarkably similar. They all might have been siblings. Then Huma realized what was so similar about each figure. They acted as if under a spell or with such concentration that it had become etched in their faces and movements. They were, in a sense, one being and they were pointing their hands toward Huma and the silver dragon.
“Dive!” he cried, but she was already doing that. The renegades tried to follow their progress, but the silver dragon wove a complex tapestry of turns and dives. While the mages concentrated on her, the other dragonriders moved closer.
How long could the renegades keep up this defense and still maintain the darkness? Huma wondered.