The black-suited rider was no stranger to opportunity, and he unstrapped himself from the dying red dragon and crawled quickly forward. The silver dragon, busy with her counterpart, did not notice him until he had jumped onto her and behind Huma. By then, there was nothing she could do that would not imperil Huma.
The attacker gripped her shoulder tightly and reached back to a sheath behind him. The sword he pulled from there was a massive, wicked weapon with tiny barbs all along the edges.
Huma’s own blade seemed woefully inadequate, but, lacking anything else, he turned and met the guardsman head on. The two weapons struck together, and the knight’s was almost pulled from his grip as it caught on the barbs.
With a tremendous effort, the silver dragon at last freed herself from the massive corpse. Even as it spiraled toward the ground, she sought a way to buck the ebony-armored attacker without losing Huma as well.
Meanwhile, neither fighter had gained any advantage. Secure in the saddle, Huma was on a more stable base, but he could not turn easily. The guardsman, straddling the lower half of the dragon, was forced to stay his ground or risk losing his grip. He had no way to secure himself.
The knight tugged violently at the bonds securing him to his saddle and crawled forward to give himself some breathing room while he turned around. The other chopped with his jagged blade, but missed. Huma, now facing his opponent, reached across the saddle and struck a blow at the guardsman’s side. His adversary parried the attack and caught Huma’s blade in the barbs. They struggled, each attempting to wrest the other’s sword away.
This new struggle proved to be a fatal error for the guardsman. Huma’s position allowed him to use both hands; the other could not. The dark knight reached up with his other hand in order to save his grip on his sword—and lost his balance, slipping from the silver dragon’s back. He tried making a grab for her wings, but they moved out of reach, and the Black Guard commander could only clutch wildly at the air before plummeting out of sight, screaming.
Huma looked upward. Kaz and Bolt were looking down at the scene with mutual expressions of triumph.
Surprisingly, the Dragonlancers had lost only the one man in the battle. Huma gave thanks that no more than that had perished, but wondered what else lay ahead.
Then, the air began to shimmer all about them and Huma, strapping himself back in the saddle, thought for a moment that they were again under attack. The shimmering was disorienting, and a great chill accompanied it. The entire mountain range looked distorted, as if they were flying in several directions at once. There was nothing Huma could do but hold on tight and pray that it would end soon.
Perhaps Paladine had heard him or perhaps they had finally reached the other side of whatever spell Dracos had cast, for the strange disturbance suddenly ceased and when Huma opened his eyes again, the mountains were as they had been.
Save for one additional feature—a tall, massive black castle perched on the side of a jagged peak.
The citadel of Galan Dracos, renegade and servant of Takhisis, the Dragonqueen.
The place of final victory—or everlasting defeat.
Chapter 29
The castle stood like a neglected sore upon the northernmost side of the ravaged peak. Blacker than the night, blacker than the ebony armor of the guardsmen, it could only truly be compared to the Abyss of Huma’s dreams, so foul was it. Huma wondered if perhaps he should have waited until he could have gathered more lancers. Yet there was no turning back. The Dragonqueen had to be confronted.
“What now, Huma?” The silver dragon looked up at him. There was death in her eyes—not for him, but rather for herself. He could see that she had given up all hope of becoming his. The knight wanted to say something, anything, but he could not. Not to that reptilian visage, so alien. He felt ashamed.
“We find a way in. We find Galan Dracos.”
Seen closely, the castle was even more obscene. It looked to be rotting before their very eyes. Small chunks of mortar fell from time to time, but no substance seemed to be lost. Withered vines wrapped around its outer walls and, even while Huma pondered how vines such as these could exist at so cold a level, he noted that they appeared to have been dying for some time.
Gruesome gargoyles stood watch on the battlements. Close examination proved them to be not demonic creatures, but the works of some mad sculptor.
Two towers rose above all else in this edifice. One appeared to be a watchtower, for it had been placed on the far edge, away from the mountain, giving those at the top a fantastic view of both the mountain range and the lands to the east.
The other tower seemed completely out of place. It was broad, taking up nearly a quarter of the inner grounds. Where the rest of the castle seemed decrepit with age, the tower seemed new and nearly spotless. Huma had no doubt that this was where to find the renegade.
“There are no defenders!” Bennett shouted.
Not one sentry walked the walls. There was no one in the watch tower, nor were there any guardsmen in the courtyard. The entire structure looked as if it were abandoned, though Huma knew Galan Dracos awaited them.
Huma turned to the others. “Disperse! I’m going in alone.”
Below him, the silver dragon quivered but kept her eyes straight ahead. Kaz was not so silent.
“Disperse? Are you mad? Do you think we’d leave you?”
“Dracos wants me. That shall be the way it is.”
Bennett had his dragon shift closer. “I will not permit you to do this.”
“It is madness, indeed, Huma,” remarked the gold dragon serving Bennett.
With a suddenness that made Huma grab for the pommel of the saddle, the silver dragon swooped down toward the castle, leaving the others open-mouthed. She had taken the decision out of their hands. They might follow, but they would not be able to catch up.
The courtyard lay directly below. Huma wondered at the size of the castle. Galan Dracos could not be so powerful as to keep his citadel perpetually standing on the side of a peak and hidden from the sight of men and still have the strength for all he had done.
He was still pondering when something of tremendous power struck him and Gwyneth. What seemed to be a giant hand plucked him from the saddle.
The world vanished.
He awoke in a narrow hall. Only one torch lit a dim corridor. The walls were cold stone, and the place had a dank smell. It nauseated Huma.
Why was he here? If it was a trap created and sprung by Dracos, why was the knight not locked in a dungeon cell, his weapons and armor stripped?
Weapons. He reached down by his side and felt the hilt of his sword. After a quick inspection, he determined that he still had his knives as well. What sort of trick was this?
The clank of metal alerted him to the presence of armored figures just down a side corridor. Huma drew his sword carefully. He did not trust these corridors enough to go racing down them blindly. They reminded him too much of the cavern tunnels in which he had been hounded by Wyrmfather.
Sword raised, he stood on the right side of the corridor intersection and held his breath. By his reckoning, there were at least two. He could hope to get the first one and possibly the second, but not three without a general alarm being raised.
A dark boot came into sight. The familiar ebony armor swerved to the left. A second guardsman followed the first. Huma held his breath.
A gauntleted hand shot toward the long, wicked blade Huma had seen earlier in the hands of the dragonrider commander. The first guardsman turned around at the noise and went for his. Though the second had noticed Huma, he was unable to draw his sword quickly enough. Huma ran him through the neck before the jagged blade was even halfway out of its scabbard.