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. "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
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