Kaz stepped back, fists raised. “Try! The first who lays a hand on me will never do so again!”
One of the knights drew a sword. “Insolent beast! You won’t live long enough!”
“No!” Huma stepped up to Rennard. “He’s no enemy. He was running from the ogres. I found him a prisoner of goblins and rescued him. He killed an ogre in order to save human lives!”
Several of the men made snide comments on the gullibility of the young knight, and Huma knew his face had glared crimson.
Kaz snorted. The slur on Huma’s honor was as much a slur on his own, since he owed his life to the human. “This is the honor of the Knights of Solamnia? This is how they treat one of their own? Perhaps I was mistaken to believe the knighthood might be as honorable as my own race!”
The knight who had drawn his sword began urging his horse forward. “I’ll have your head, minotaur!”
“You will do nothing of the sort, Knight Conrad.” The angered knight tried to face Rennard down, but, as had happened countless times before, it was the pale knight who was victorious. No one could face the ice-blue eyes.
“In truth, there is nothing any of you could say against Huma’s ability to judge,” continued Rennard. “And you know it. Act like knights, not petty Ergothians or high, mighty elves.”
The other warriors quieted, although it was clear they were not pleased with being scolded like children. Rennard did not care, Huma knew. Rennard was concerned only with Rennard.
To Huma, he said, “The minotaur is placed in your custody, Huma. I know more about their kind than these others apparently do. If he will pledge to come among us in peace, that will be all the assurance I need.”
Huma looked at Kaz, who stared at the patrol in general and at the gaunt knight in particular. After some consideration, the minotaur finally agreed. “I pledge to you that I will come in peace and that I will accept Huma’s judgment in all matters.”
The last was a criticism of the knights’ lack of faith in one of their own. The knights shifted uneasily. They did not like the idea of so powerful a prisoner riding loose among them. The silver dragon looked on with an expression of mild amusement. Rennard’s face was devoid of reaction, but Huma felt he was amused by the remark.
The patrol leader jabbed a thumb behind him. “We have a few extra horses, which we recovered about a mile from here. One of them is tall and strong enough to carry the minotaur, I believe. When you are satisfied, I want the two of you up front. We have much to discuss, and you. Knight Huma, must have a rather interesting report.”
The other knights made room as Huma and Kaz stepped into their midst. There were five extra horses—four war-horses and one drafthorse that apparently had been abandoned by its owner. The drafthorse and two of the warhorses proved to be unfit for riding and had been taken along mainly for the meat on their bones. The tallest of the horses, and the only one capable of supporting the massive form of the minotaur, was skittish, but not so much that Kaz could not control him. Huma found a greyish silver steed and took an immediately liking to it. When they were mounted, they rejoined Rennard.
Huma scanned the desolation. “What happened here?”
The lack of emotion only made Rennard’s words the more frightening. “What usually happens, Huma? Mages fight their own private wars and tear up the lands, leaving nothing but rock and craters for those bound to the earth. Dragons burn or freeze or tear up the remaining fertile, green regions. By the time the armies clash, there is little if anything worth fighting for.”
Mages were a sore subject with Rennard. No one knew why. Huma had never mentioned Magius to him for fear of alienating him, and losing one of Huma’s rare champions.
“Did we lose?”
“Stalemate. The fighting just moved north, although we were sent to assure that their northerly retreat was no feint. We were just about to turn back when we saw you.”
The silver dragon, who had stayed patiently silent all this time, finally interjected. “You did not see the dragonriders, then?”
Rennard’s head snapped up and the other knights stiffened. “Dragonriders, did you say?”
“Six of them. All clad in black and all riding red dragons, save the leader, who rode a huge black dragon. They seemed to be searching until they noticed us. I tried to buy some time, but your fellow knight refused to leave me. He insisted on joining in the battle.”
With most of the faces hidden by visors, Huma could not properly gauge the reactions of his comrades. Some few seemed to indicate approval with slight nods, while one was heard to mutter something about unnecessary foolhardiness. Rennard, meanwhile, seemed preoccupied.
“A huge black, you say?”
“The largest. Young, though. The rider chose to fight us one to one. We did, and then a strange thing occurred. Huma wounded him severely and the black was forced to retreat from the battle. Rather than seeking revenge, the others joined the black to seek help for their crippled leader. They would have slaughtered us had they all come at once. I still do not understand.”
Rennard’s face remained typically blank. How much this disturbed him was impossible to say. When he spoke next, it was as if the tale of the attack had already slipped his mind. “I can only thank you for the service you have given one of our own. Will you be joining us? I am unfamiliar with the healing of dragon wounds, but if the powers of a cleric of Mishakal will help, there are a few with the main force.”
The great beast flexed her wings—which unnerved more than one knight and many of the horses—and declined his offer. “My own talents will suffice. I merely need rest. I will rejoin my kin. You might possibly see me afterward.” The last comment was directed more at Huma than Rennard.
“It has been fascinating to know you even this brief time, Knight Huma,” the dragon continued. “Good tidings to you. May Paladine watch over you.”
Without further ado, the silver dragon lifted herself high into the air. Huma and the others were forced to look away as the dust rose. When it had settled at last, the astonishing creature was already far away. The group watched her vanish into the clouds, still awed by her presence. Rennard turned and took stock of those under his command—including Huma and Kaz—and turned his horse. He gave no command, and none was expected. The others simply followed, the two newcomers riding just behind the patrol leader.
It was not until they were well on their way that Rennard motioned the two to ride beside him. He continued to watch the path ahead as he spoke. “These riders. Have you ever seen or heard of them before, Huma?”
“Should I have?”
“Perhaps. Minotaur—”
“My name is Kaz.” He appeared tired of being addressed as if he were not quite there.
“Kaz, then. Surely, you must know them?”
“They are the Black Guard. One of many of their names. They serve the renegade mage Galan Dracos and the Queen’s warlord, Crynus.”
“What of the warlord himself?”
Kaz shrugged. “He is a giant, although whether an ogre or human or something else, only a special few seem to know. He is a master strategist who is willing to take chances, even with himself. His favorite mount—mount . . .” The minotaur stopped speaking, and his eyes widened.
A thin, deadly smile spread across Rennard’s face, a frightening sight on that deathlike visage. Rennard turned to Huma. “What I believe he was going to add was that the favored mount of Crynus is a huge black dragon called Chair. Both man and beast are obsessive risk-takers and one-to-one combat is something they relish greatly.”
“And ... and I fought against him.” The realization shook Huma. He had faced Crynus himself and lived.
Then, he suddenly thought, so had the warlord. He had been badly wounded, true, but Huma was sure he lived—and somehow Huma knew that the warlord would seek him out. To regain face. To regain honor. To more than balance the score. To kill him.