Chapter 8
Magius’s spell of light surrounded them like a tent. Beyond it loomed total darkness. They could hear the raging of the magical storm, although now they could not feel it; the spell that protected Magius protected Huma and Kaz as well. Only their footing was questionable, as the minotaur discovered. Huma helped him to his feet. The bottom half of the man-beast’s body was slick with mud.
Magius smiled amiably at the sight, raising Kaz’s anger. Matters were not helped any by the spellcaster’s commentary on the slow pace of his companions, or the way in which not one speck of mud had dared to mar the magnificence of the mage’s clothing. Another spell, Huma knew, because Kaz had already attempted to kick some of the muck toward the backside of their savior. The mud had halted just inches from the unsuspecting target, seemed to hesitate, and then fallen to earth.
Neither the knight nor the minotaur had any idea where Magius was leading them. They only knew that they were at last safe from the violent sorceries unleashed by the Dragonqueen’s magic-users. That such power was at the evil ones’ beck and call had thrown Huma into a deep depression. Now more than ever, all seemed to be lost.
Magius abruptly raised his free hand. The glow from his person dwindled away. Only the light from his simple staff, the light which Huma and Kaz had first noticed, continued to keep them from total darkness.
They could see nothing ahead of them, but they could hear that the storm had ceased. They also could hear something else: the padding of many animal paws and the heavy breathing of large creatures. Huma’s hand whitened from strain as he tightened his grip on his sword. The creatures, night dwellers if they were able to travel with such ease, continued past. When they had been gone for several minutes and nothing followed, Magius lowered his hand.
He turned momentarily back to the others. “Outrunners. Things bred and misbred by Galan Dracos. Small wonder some began to call him the Queen’s mortal consort. His twisted imagination is truly worthy of her.”
Huma wondered who the “some” were whom Magius talked about. He longed to ask many questions about the mage’s last few years. Before going off for the Test, Magius had been a sarcastic, vain trickster who poked fun at his best friend and who constantly ridiculed the knighthood for its closed ways. Only Huma really understood that Magius was terribly insecure—one of the reasons he had sought to learn magic—and that the taunts thrown at Huma served another purpose. The very same knights who despised young Huma were his champions. The honor of the knighthood always came first.
This Magius, while he still had that streak of mischievousness, had gained a serious, brooding side that could overwhelm his personality.
“Huma,” the minotaur whispered. “Where are we going?”
Both of them had assumed that Magius was leading them to wherever the Solamnic forces were regrouping, or rather, where Huma hoped they were reforming. The young knight was becoming more and more certain that they were, in fact, heading in the opposite direction.
“Magius?”
“Hmmm?” The spellcaster did not even turn around.
Hesitantly, Huma asked, “Are we heading back deeper into Solamnia?”
“No.”
“Where are we going?”
Despite his carefree appearance, the magic-user’s voice carried uncertainty, perhaps even some fear. “We are going to my citadel, my domain.”
Huma finally made clear his true concern. “Ergoth?”
“Yes.” Magius continued walking, but the other two came to a halt. Small wonder the storm had abated so soon! They were walking through the enemy lines!
“He has betrayed us!” Kaz reached out with his bare hands. Magius’s neck would be a fragile thing in the grip of the minotaur’s powerful claws.
“No, Kaz!” Huma struggled briefly with the minotaur, but Kaz would not listen. The latter fully expected to be turned over to his less-than-forgiving brethren and executed.
The massive hands formed a circle around the mage’s neck—and could go no further. The same spell that protected Magius from the mud also protected him from personal harm by physical means. The former benefit was, no doubt, just a fortunate side-effect, although with the vanity of Magius, it was difficult to say.
Magius turned around, still in the near-grip of Kaz. Without warning, the minotaur swung one hand at the spellcaster’s head. If he had expected to succeed by sheer force, the minotaur was mistaken. Not only was the mage unmoved, but his attacker’s hand was flung back.
The magic-user was wearing the irritating smile that Huma had watched him cultivate over the years. Suddenly, even in the midst of the overwhelming darkness, it was the past once more.
“I have not betrayed you, either of you. True, we are moving into Ergoth, but much of that land is still essentially untouched by the ogres and their foul mistress. We are, in fact, more likely to be safe here than if we had followed the mad rush by the oh-so-stalwart knighthood.”
Huma grimaced at the description and felt embarrassment, though he knew the knighthood had done all it could. Magius failed to mention that the magic-users had fled, also.
The minotaur refused to be convinced. “By Sargas and my ancestors for twenty generations—”
Magius held the light of the staff in front of Kaz, who backed away for fear a spell was being unleashed. “If anyone draws attention to us, it will be you, minotaur! Call on your dusty kin if you must, but do not call upon that dark god unless you desire his personal attention now!”
Sargas. It was several seconds before Huma identified the name. Sargas—Sargonnas, consort of Takhisis, the Dragonqueen. A power unto himself. The minotaurs worshipped him. A reflex action on the part of Kaz, to be sure, but one that could carry a deadly price at a time when gods and goddesses watched and listened with much interest.
Sargas would not be pleased with a minotaur who had fled to the safety of Paladine’s appointed mortal guardians, Sargas was the god of vengeance and plots of great evil. Kaz had no choice but to be calm himself and to bow to the human’s common sense—at least, in this respect.
“Now,” Magius said, straightening his cloak, “may we continue? I will tire eventually, and I have no desire to be within the range of the Queen’s sentinels.”
For what seemed like days, they followed the mage through the darkness. Huma began to wonder if all of Ergoth lay under shadow and whether that shadow was now extending over Solamnia as well. He felt a twinge of guilt that he was not assisting in the regrouping of the forces, but he consoled himself with the fact that he might do some good here, where the warlord would least suspect his presence.
At last, the trio began to notice a failing in the darkness, as if it were either weakening or they had at last reached its boundaries.
“The power level used to create and maintain this monstrosity must be monumental,” said Magius. “The renegades of Galan Dracos are talented, but even they have their limits. Yet it appears to have served its purpose. The stalemate is broken.” Magius did not seem visibly concerned.
Dark, spectral shapes formed, reaching for them. The demonic shapes coalesced into towering trees and thick bushes.
“Magius, what happened in the east?”
The spellcaster slowed, though his eyes were still on the path ahead. “Something happened in the east?”
“The dragons came.” What, Huma wondered, had become of them? Had they all perished, including the silver one to whom Huma had become so strangely attached? “They said that the east had collapsed.”
Magius stopped, turned, and studied his friend’s face. “Indeed?” The mage wore a thoughtful expression.
Kaz crossed his massive arms. “You know a lot, magic-user. Much more than you are telling us.”
The cynical smile returned. “I will do my best to enlighten you when we have reached our destination.”
“And how long will that be? I could swear we have been walking for days.”