“None too soon,” he responded gruffly. Yet, he, too, felt
a hollowness inside him because he knew what the end of
this battle would mean for them personally: a few years of
happiness at the very most and then a permanent separation,
but that was the price they must pay for the destruction of
the Dark Queen.
“You don’t regret our decision, do you?” she asked him
quietly.
“Daily. Hourly. Every time I think of what we could
have had, I regret it. But it is beyond us. There’s nothing we
can do about it.” He turned to face her, drinking in her
beauty, a fine, light beauty, created by illusion, but a perfect
illusion that could be preserved for all time if they would
pay the price. But they could not.
She nodded, afraid to speak. Afraid of the pain that
would creep into her words. She turned away and looked at
the army of tired men who sensed that the end was near.
Tired, dirty men who had never lost their belief that Huma
would lead them to victory. Men who knew Huma would
not betray them, and who believed that – one way or another
– this day would see the end of the terrible war.
“I wish . . .” she started and found that she was unable
to finish the thought. What could she say? She knew from
the beginning what the rules were. She knew what it meant
for her to take human form, and she knew what the ultimate
cost would be for her. And yet, she hadn’t realized that it
would be as high as it was. And now it was too late.
Huma took her hand, holding it in his own; he
squeezed it tightly so that she could not get away from him.
There were a hundred things that he wanted to say to her. A
thousand, but he didn’t have the words. In his heart, he
knew that they had made the right decision, but that didn’t
make it any easier. Rather than telling her that their time
together, however short, was worth the sacrifice, he said
nothing to her. He knew that she knew, and that was all that
was important. The words didn’t have to be spoken aloud to
be heard.
A silence descended over the valley and the hills around
it. The clouds of dust drifting on the light breeze did little to
break the heat of the afternoon. The eerie quiet spread
outward, as if everybody held their breath, waiting for
someone else to take command. Huma pulled the woman
closer to him but could not feel her body press his because
of the heavy armor he wore. A sweat born of the heat and
the anxiety of the moment dripped down his face and ran
down his sides; he didn’t like the way the Dark Queen had
fled to the obelisk. He didn’t like the way her army had
halted at its base, as if finding protection in its shadow. It
smacked of a trap, and that frightened him because he hadn’t
expected it.
For a moment everything remained static, the two
forces separated by one-hundred yards of open, dry, flat
ground. No one moved; the only sounds were the flapping
of the knight’s pennants in the hot breeze and a quiet rattling
of the metallic and leather equipment.
And then the woman vanished. A shimmering of light
that looked like the heat rising from the plains near him and
she was gone. Huma mounted the silver dragon that
appeared next to him, holding the dragonlance in his left
hand, the butt resting on his thigh. He saw the commanders
of his army, the captains of the pikemen, the bowmen, and
the knights, watching him, waiting for his orders. He saw
the Dark Queen and her army and knew that the wait was
over.
Huma leaned forward, his mouth near an ear of the
silver dragon, and said, “It’s time.”
The massive head of the dragon nodded once, and a tear
dropped from its left eye.
Huma raised his lance high over his head, then lowered it
with a snap of his wrist. At his command, there was