"Why would a Knight of Solamnia be riding a dragon?" Laurana asked, thinking of the Dragon Highlords.
"There have been knights who turned to evil." Lord Derek Crownguard said harshly. "Though it shames me to admit it:"
"I get no feeling of evil here;' Elistan said. "Only a great sorrow. I wonder how they died. I see no wounds-"
"This seems familiar;" Tasslehoff interrupted, frowning. "Like a picture. A knight riding a silver dragon. I've seen-"
"Bah!" Flint snorted. "You've seen furry elephants-"
"I'm serious;" Tas protested.
"Where was it, Tas?" Laurana asked gently, seeing a hurt expression on the kender's face. "Can you remember?"
"I think . . :' Tasslehoff's eyes lost their focus. "It puts me in mind of Pax Tharkas and Fizban. . . :'
"Fizban!" Flint exploded. "That old mage was crazier than Raistlin, if that's possible:"
"I don't know what Tas is talking about;" Sturm said, gazing up at the dragon and its rider thoughtfully. "But I remember my mother telling me that Huma rode upon a Silver Dragon, carrying the Dragonlance, in his final battle:'
"And I remember my mother telling me to leave sweetcakes for the white-robed Old One who came to our castle at Yuletime;' scoffed Derek. "No, this is undoubtedly some renegade Knight, enslaved by eviclass="underline" '
Derek and the other two young knights turned to go, but the rest lingered, staring up at the figure on the dragon.
"You're right, Sturm. That's a dragonlance;" Tas said wistfully. "I don't know how I know, but I'm sure of it:"
"Did you see it in the book in Tarsis?" Sturm asked, exchanging glances with Laurana, each of them thinking that the kender's seriousness was unusual, even frightening.
Tas shrugged. "I don't know;' he said in a small voice. "I'm sorry:"
"Maybe we should take it with us;' Laurana suggested uneasily. "It couldn't hurt:"
"Come along, Brightblade!" Derek's voice came back to them, echoing sternly. "The Thanoi may have lost us for the moment, but they'll discover our trail before long:'
"How can we get it?" Sturm asked, ignoring Derek's order. "It's encased in ice at least three feet thick!"
"I can;' Gilthanas said.
Jumping up onto the huge cliff of ice that had formed around the dragon and its rider, the elf found a handhold and began to inch his way up the monument. From the dragon's frozen wing, he was able to crawl along on his hands and knees until he came to the lance, clutched in the rider's hand. Gilthanas pressed his hand against the ice wall covering the lance and spoke the strange, spidery language of magic.
A red glow spread from the elf's hand to the ice, melting it away rapidly. Within moments, he was able to reach his hand through the hole to grasp the lance. But it was held fast in the dead knight's hand.
Gilthanas tugged and even tried to pry the frozen fingers of the hand loose. Finally he could stand the cold of the ice no longer and dropped, shivering, back down to the ground. "There's no way;" he said. "He's got it gripped tight:'
"Break the fingers-" suggested Tas helpfully.
Sturm silenced the kender with a furious look. "I wilt not have his body desecrated;" he snapped. "Maybe we can slide the lance out of his hand. I'll try-"
"No good;' Gilthanas told his sister as they watched Sturm climb up the side of the ice. "It's as if the lance has become part of the hand. I-" The elf stopped.
As Sturm put his hand through the hole in the ice and kook hold of the lance, the icebound figure of the knight seemed to move suddenly, just slightly. Its stiff and frozen hand relaxed its grip on the shattered lance. Sturm nearly fell in his amazement, and, letting go of the weapon hurriedly, he backed away along the dragon's ice-coated wing.
"He's giving it to you;' cried Laurana. "Go ahead, Sturm! Take it! Don't you see-he's giving it to another knight:"
"Which I'm not;' Sturm said bitterly. "But perhaps that's indicative, perhaps it is evil-" Hesitantly, he slid back to the hole and grasped the lance once more. The stiff hand of the dead knight released its grip. Taking hold of the broken weapon, Sturm carefully brought it out of the ice. He jumped back to the ground and stood staring at the ancient shaft.
"That was wonderful!" Tas said in awe. "Flint, did you see the corpse come alive?"
"No!" snapped the dwarf. "And neither did you. Let's get out of here;' he added, shivering.
Then Derek appeared. "I gave you an order, Sturm Brightblade! What's the delay?" Derek's face darkened wrath anger as he saw the lance.
"I asked him to get it for me;" Laurana said, her voice as cool as the wall of ice behind her. Taking the lance, she began to wrap it swiftly in a fur cloak from her pack.
Derek regarded her angrily for a moment, then bowed stiffly and turned on his heel.
"Dead knights, live knights, I don't know who's worse;' Flint grumbled, grabbing Tas and dragging him along after Derek.
"What if it is a weapon of evil?" Sturm asked Laurana in a low voice as they traveled the icy corridors of the castle.
Laurana looked back one final time at the dead knight mounted on the dragon. The cold pale sun of the southland was
setting, its light casting watery shadows across the corpses, giving them a sinister aspect. Even as she watched, she thought she saw the body slump lifelessly.
"Do you believe the story of Huma?" Laurana asked softly.
"I don't know what to believe anymore;" Sturm said, bitterness hardening his voice. "Everything used to be black and a white for me, all things clear-cut and well-defined. I believed in the story of Huma. My mother taught it to me as the truth. Then I went to Solamnia:' He paused, as if unwilling to continue. Finally, seeing Laurana's face filled with interest and compassion, he swallowed and went on. "I never told anyone this, not even Tanis. When I returned to my homeland, I found that the Knighthood was not the order of honorable, self sacrificing men my mother had described. It was rife with political intrigue. The best of the men were like Derek, honorable, but strict and unbending, with little use for those they consider beneath them. The worst-" He shook his head. "When I spoke of Huma, they laughed. An itinerant knight, they called him. According to their story, he was cast out of the order for dis
obeying its laws. Huma roamed the countryside, they said, endearing himself to peasants, who thus began to create leg
ends about him:"
"But did he really exist?" Laurana persisted, saddened by the sorrow in Sturm's face.
"Oh, yes. Of that there can be no doubt. The records that survived the Cataclysm list his name among the lower orders of the knights. But the story of the Silver Dragon, the Final Battle, even the Dragonlance itself-no one believes anymore. Like Derek says, there is no proof. The tomb of Huma, according to the legend, was a towering structure-one of the wonders of the world. But you can find no one who has ever seen it. All we have are children's stories, as Raistlin would say:" Sturm put his hand to his face, covering his eyes, and gave a deep, shuddering sigh.
"Do you know;' he said softly, "I never thought I'd say it, but I miss Raistlin. I miss all of them. I feel as if a part of me's been cut off, and that's how I felt when I was in Solamnia. That's why I came back, instead of waiting and completing the tests for my knighthood. These people-my friends-were doing more to combat evil in the world than all the Knights lined up in a row. Even Raistlin, in some way I can't understand. He could tell us what all this means:" He jerked his thumb back at the ice-encased knight. "At least he would believe in it. If he were here. If Tanis were here-" Sturm could not go on.