“Mine?” Huma blinked. A Black Robe seeking aid from him?
“We know of you—through one who has worn many robes in his life and who even now wears another, in spirit if not in body.”
“Magius!” The knight leaped on the vague description. “Where?”
The spellcaster raised a hand to silence him. “No time for that. Listen. We know now that if the Dragonqueen is victorious, we will be no more to her than you are. Dracos has already become her mortal voice, and his world will seem one born from the Abyss itself. You have seen his abominations. Would you like to see them made permanent? We wish to join with you. Better to die fighting than to be forever at her mercy—and she will have a special place for both our orders, mark me.”
An offer of alliance . . . from a Black Robe? “How can I possibly believe you, one of her creatures?”
The mage straightened. “My first and foremost loyalty is to Nuitari, Dark Lord of Magic. We erred in believing we served him when we chose to serve—I will not call her his mother—let us say she who had given birth to him. Nuitari, though, cares for this world. That is why he, Lunitari, and—” The spellcaster hesitated at saying the name. “—even Solinari of the Light abandoned the struggle for Krynn and created the Orders of Sorcery as a separate entity, one that should work for the betterment of magic in the world. If Takhisis is victorious, Krynn will become little more than a cold rock among the stars. Our lord’s dream will perish. We cannot have that.”
“What do you want?”
“It is not so much what we want as what we can give.”
“Give?” The silver dragon, silent through much of this exchange, narrowed her eyes and laughed sarcastically. “A Black Robe gives nothing but misery and death.”
“An unjust falsehood. However, in this case, any misery and death we deal shall be aimed toward Dracos and his ragtag band—but we need an opening.”
“An opening? What do you mean?”
“I offer you this.” The mage held out a bony hand. In his palm rested a tiny green sphere. “Unless you can get close enough, you will never see the castle of Galan Dracos; it lies on the edge between our plane and the Abyss. With this, you will be able to locate it.”
The silver dragon scoffed. “Is there not the matter of your former mistress, the Dragonqueen? Is she to step idly aside while we charge the domain of her most trusted servant?”
The spellcaster indicated the Dragonlance. “I’m told that she has doubts about these. That she remains within the confines of the castle, near the path to the Abyss, because she fears the power of the Dragonlances.”
“Preposterous! Huma, I won’t let you . . .” The silver dragon turned as she spoke and froze at the look on his face. “Huma . . . you cannot believe this.”
The knight ignored her. “What will you do when we strike, assuming we do?”
“Within the castle, the remainder of the Black Guard and those renegades who willingly follow Dracos will be your greatest threat. We shall deal with them. If possible, we shall strive to turn away the dragons as well.”
“Madness!”
A shadow loomed above. All three looked up to see Kaz and Bolt hovering. The minotaur was shouting.
“Be quick! I see dragons scouting ahead.”
The mage quickly turned back to Huma. “By Nuitari, I swear that my name is Gunther and that you may trust me. Take it!”
The Black Robe had sworn by his lord. For the followers of Nuitari, the penalties for breaking oaths were ofttimes fatal. Huma reached down and accepted the small green sphere.
“We are with you.” The mage vanished abruptly. Huma kicked his mount gently. She spread her wings and began rising, relief evident on her features.
Kaz saw Huma’s closed fist and blinked. “What is it?” Huma stared at the approaching sea of destruction and thought how simple the spell of darkness seemed now. He glanced down at the hand that held the small sphere. “A desperate hope, at best, I think.”
Chapter 27
“By the triumvirate! How much more can they possibly throw against us?”
Guy Avondale shook his head. “Evil always grows abundant when given the chance to take root. Melodramatic statement by my predecessor, but all too true.”
They stood in the courtyard where the dragons and their riders had landed. The loss of two of their elite number disturbed the Grand Master, as did news of yet another wave of evil rising toward them.
“What of this deal with the followers of Nuitari, Huma?” asked Bennett. “Can they be trusted, in your opinion?”
After deep thought, Huma finally answered. “I believe so.” He held up the tiny, emerald globe. It pulsated. “They gave this. Granted, it might be a means for them to draw us out so that we fall to them in the open field, but it was accompanied by an oath to the God of Dark Magic himself. No Black Robe with a desire to live will cross Nuitari.”
“I agree,” added the Grand Master. He sighed. “Well, we have quite a problem. We cannot possibly defend Vingaard for too long against a siege of this intensity. At the same time, it would be simple madness to go out and meet that horde.” He hesitated, then added, “I offered the dragons the chance to depart if they felt the cause was lost here.” Lord Oswal held up a hand to silence his anxious companions. “I had to ask. I believe, though, that they will stay with us until the end. We shall see. Where was I? Ah. We still do not know all about the east. The ogres are said to be stabilizing there. We can look for no help from the south—blast the elves! The north—water.”
“We have the fake Dragonlances,” interrupted Bennett. “Let us use them in one final assault. In the confusion of the foe, a few of them will buy time, if nothing else.”
Lord Oswal grunted and stared at the lances of the riders. “I think insanity rules the day, but unless there are other suggestions, we shall combine the epic charge my nephew so desperately craves with a coordinated search for and attack on the castle of Galan Dracos.” He looked around. No one, not even Lord Avondale, cleric and veteran soldier, could oppose the suicidal strategy.
Oswal shook his head. “If I am remembered at all, it will probably be as the Grand Master cursed for sending his men to the slaughter.”
A horn sounded.
“They’ve spotted the first wave,” someone said anxiously. Knights suddenly were moving all about. Horses were being readied and lined up. Row upon row of knights formed. Pikemen, lancers, bowmen, each and every type moved to assure that there was no disorder in this hour of peril.
“Break out the footmen’s lances!” shouted the Grand Master to one of his aides. The man saluted hastily and went to inform the squires, whose job it would be.
Huma wanted to order the remaining Dragonlancers into battle formation, but Lord Oswal prevented him. “No. If you hope to break through and make your way to the mountains, you’ll have to go when the dragons are engaged.”
“But the ground forces—”
“Will receive as much protection as they can get from the dragons. I—”
The horn sounded again, a different note this time.
“What in the name of Kiri-Jolith is that?” The Grand Master and the others hurried toward the front, where Lord Hawkeye was in direct command.
“Lord Hawkeye.” The ruling Knight of the Order of the Crown whirled.
“Grand Master, they’ve come to a halt, just in sight. Even the dragons have stopped. It’s as if they’re waiting for something. I’ve put everybody on standby.”
“Very good.” Huma held his breath until the Grand Master relaxed the evident strain on his face. “They are going to play with our minds. They want us to come charging out to meet them. The abysmal fools. We can’t be tricked into such an easy death!
“Let them sweat a little. Let them wait. When Galan Dracos or his mistress runs out of patience, then we will make our move.”
A gold dragon fluttered from a spire down to the courtyard. He was old, even for a dragon, for his hide was cracked and covered with ancient battle scars. There was no weakness in his form, though.