won't. He can't. When they die, the scarlet plague dies, for such is its way. This one, however, would serve his master to the end. Nightmasters are chosen from among the most fanatical of Morgion's followers. If I had let him go, he might have tried to spread the curse to those poor souls in the camp.'
'You… you have my gratitude for saving me.'
'Huma saved you, not I,' Rennard remarked, thinking of the song. Sheathing his blade, he moved to Erik's side and tried to take one of the young knight's daggers in order to cut the ropes. His hand passed through it. Dornay managed to free himself.
Rising, Erik stared at the body of the cleric, then back in the direction of the refugee camp. 'You were right. These fiends were trailing them.'
'Yes, Morgion's toadies were sacrificing them one at a time in the hope of calling the Faceless One back. Come now, there is something I want to show you.'
'What?'
'Your friend's murderers.'
On foot, it took several minutes to reach the outskirts of the encampment. Someone evidently had heard the short, fierce struggle, for the party had gathered close around the fire. Four of the more fit were keeping watch. Women clutched whimpering children. Men held sticks of wood for weapons. All looked terrified.
'There they are,' Rennard said. 'What will you do?'
'They look…' Erik hesitated.
'Hopeless? Desperate? In the Dragon Wars, I saw many who looked that way.'
Erik eyed him. 'You're asking me to go to them, aid them? But the danger is past!'
'If the cultists do not get them, then bandits or starvation will. Look at them, Erik Dornay. They need your pity, not your hatred. Huma would have tried to help them. He would have understood that a moment of despair turned them into an inhuman mob. His duty would have been to restore their humanity.'
The Knight of the Rose still hesitated. 'If I go to them, they'll attack me. I'll be forced to kill them! I am not Huma! He was a — '
'Huma was a man.' Rennard saw movement and glanced around. The shadows seemed to thicken, come to life.
'What's wrong?' Dornay began to move closer. Rennard kept him at bay with his sword.
'Come no closer. I have already risked you once. If I can spread my curse to those curs, then I can spread it to you.'
Erik stepped back with great reluctance.
The shadows, Rennard saw, were taking shape and form. 'Now it is time for you to go, Erik Dornay.'
'But what about you?'
Rennard heard no whispering yet, but he was certain the eyes of the hunters burned into him. The ghost readied his blade and moved farther from the encampment. 'I must attend to matters of my own.'
'Matters…' Erik looked into the shadows. 'Paladine save us! What are they?'
'I told you that even ghosts may be haunted by ghosts, Erik Dornay. These are mine — the shadows of every knight who died by my hand or by my actions. They cannot rest, and so I cannot.'
'What will they do?' the mortal whispered in awe.
'Pursue me, fight me, and kill me. Then, when their need for vengeance is sated, I will rise, and the entire tragedy will happen all over again.'
'That's monstrous!'
'It is justice. Even I know that.'
'What can I do?' Dornay began to reach for his sword.
'Help those people.'
'I mean for you!'
The ghost laughed. 'So I now have two champions — you and Huma! Both trying to save me from what I am!' Rennard shook his head. 'There is one thing you can do for me, my… my friend. Go to those you sought to kill. Let me see that I have accomplished my task.'
Dornay looked at the shadows of long-dead knights, gathering to attack, then at their intended victim. At last, he straightened and brought his sword up to his face in the knight's salute. 'I will pray for you, Sir Rennard.'
The shadows still had not moved. They, too, were waiting. 'Once you depart, do not look back,' Rennard said. 'I would prefer it that way.'
Erik nodded and turned away. The ghost watched, his own renewed pain and the nearing shadows forgotten. The young Solamnian moved through the woods and, without pause, entered the camp. The people were frightened, staring at him uncertainly. Those who held weapons waited for the knight to attack.
The Knight of the Rose planted his sword in the earth and held up a hand in a sign of peace. He said something that Rennard could not hear, but which caused the refugees to lower their weapons.
One of them stepped forward. Erik held out his hand. The man grasped the knight's hand thankfully.
Rennard nodded, satisfied. He turned away from the mortals to face the shadows who waited for him, across a stream. Fog began to envelop him, and he knew that his brief journey to Krynn soon would be only a memory.
Had it all been coincidence? Or did the gods, who had left Krynn, still have ways of watching over those who interested them?
The hunters waited, even when the sounds of mortal beings faded away in the fog. Rennard tensed. Around him, the fog gathered thicker.
'Why do you wait?' he shouted. 'Why now?' They made no answer. Even their whispers were preferable to the silence, he realized.
The sound of sword striking shield came from behind him. Rennard turned and stepped into the stream. Water splashed. His boot struck the surface and sank in. Rennard stared at the water. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Fearfully, the ghostly knight reached down.
Small ripples spread out from his fingers. The tips of his fingers touched the stream. Rennard thrust his hands into the water. He cupped his hands together.
His own words came back to him.
Rennard brought the liquid to his parched lips and drank. For the first time since his death, the eternal fever that burned within him cooled.
Rennard lowered his hands into the stream again. Another sip. He needed another sip.
This time, however, all was as it had been. The stream flowed through his fingers as if they were not there… which they were not.
The shadows moved. He had been granted his drink of water. Now, it was time to return to the Abyss.
Krynn faded completely then. The stream disappeared before his eyes. In its place lay the familiar plain of death.
Rennard grabbed his sword and began to back away from the oncoming knights. Oddly, he did not feel as afraid as before, even knowing that this flight, like so many others, would end with his downfall.
Another question came to his mind, one that he often had asked before without hope.
'I earned the sip of water. Will I earn my rest as well?'
The shadows closed in. Rennard thought he heard the distant strains of a song.
SONG OF HUMA
Sularus Humah durvey The Honor of Huma survives
Karamnes Humah durvey The Glory of Huma survives
Draco! Dragons, hear!
Solamnis na fai tarus Solamnic breath is taken
