The Jewel of Equilibrant w-1

by Steven Frankos

  "It is futile to fight," the spellcaster growled.

  Gritting his teeth, Logan ignored the buzz of disharmony and charged. He slashed at Groathit's midriff with all his might behind his weapon, anger feeding an inhuman strength to his muscles. The wizard barked a harsh laugh as the sword passed through his body, throwing Logan off balance. Glancing up from the floor, Logan saw Groathit step toward him, a hideous frown upon his face.

  "I am to bring you to Vaugen," he informed Logan, a bench thrown in the brawl passing harmlessly through him. "He has need of you."

  The spellcaster smiled, and Logan froze. The wizard's teeth were gradually lengthening, elongating into large, needle-sharp fangs. His sunken eyes flared red, and the tips of his bony fingers erupted, releasing iron claws. There was a sudden blossom of flame, and the concussion threw Logan backwards as he was once again beset upon by the feeling of dissent.

  Shaking the numbness from his mind, Logan looked up to find himself outside the tavern. His sword lay on the cobblestones beside him as fearful screams exploded from within the tavern. A tidal wave of people rushed free of the building, blindly fleeing some unseen terror inside. Unexpectedly, two men were batted skyward as the demonic Groathit crashed out of the tavern, flames belching from his fang-rimmed mouth. Malevolent red eyes trained in on Logan, and the transformed mouth drew back in a crocodilian smile. With a strangled shout, Logan scurried to his feet, gripping tightly to his sword. The metamorphosed Groathit disregarded the weapon, lumbering menacingly toward the young man. A grey form suddenly leapt atop the wizard, a dagger plunging deep into his neck. Roaring in anger rather than pain, the demon-wizard pulled free the blade, releasing a geyser of blood. An arm swung about, catching Moknay on the side of his head and flinging him head over heels. Logan watched in horror as the Murderer sailed across the street and landed with a crash in a silversmith's shop. The terror increased as Logan saw Moknay slump against a circle of bricks and lay still.

  Waving an iron-clawed hand, Groathit healed the wound on his neck. The rush of blood slowed to a trickle until that too faded to pink scar tissue. The gleam in the spellcaster's eyes intensified as he slowly turned to face Logan.

  Staring at the still form of the Murderer across the street, Logan could feel the fear mutate into a raging fire of anger. Moknay! He had befriended him! He had attempted to rescue him from these infernal Reakthi! And now he was injured-dead, maybe! And it was because of Logan's meddling!

  Teeth clenched, Logan swung about to face Groathit. Although his vision was blurred by his intense hatred, he could make out the demonic form of the wizard, fanged mouth drawn back in an evil sneer. Overtaken by his rage, Logan's arm thrust outward, jabbing the point of his sword into a flashing red eye. Streams of blood babbled down Groathit's face as he staggered to one side, screaming in agony, his black-clawed hands protectively covering his injured eye.

  "I shall return for you, man from another world," the magic-user warned, spitting blood. "Consider yourself fortunate that you are of no use to Vaugen as a corpse!"

  Smoke swelled up from the cobblestones, surrounding the wizard with a dense, black curtain of haze. When it dispersed, Groathit was gone.

  Drained of his anger and strength, Logan made his way to the silversmith's shop, dragging his sword through the cobblestones behind him. Odd, he told himself, the silversmith's was empty. But where had Moknay gone?

  A sudden glint of silver caught Logan's eye, and he hurried over to one corner of the shop. There, embedded in a barrel, was a slim dagger. Beneath it, scrawled in what could have been charcoal, was the message: "Must go. Keep this or I will cut your head off."

  Smiling with relief, Logan freed the weapon. It was perfectly balanced, he noticed, so it could be used as a missile, but why had the Murderer left so hastily? You would think Logan would at least be able to see him up one of the streets.

  The young man froze as he gazed up one road. A small squad of men hurried toward the tavern in military order, all dressed in uniforms. Guessing them to be the Guardsmen Thromar had mentioned, Logan crouched down behind the barrel and waited. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow as he observed the Guards march into the tavern, inspect the damage, and start off again, splitting into smaller troops. A sigh escaped Logan's lips as he scurried out from behind the barrel and started back toward the building where he had left Thromar and Bella. His unexpected entrance may cause some embarrassment, but he could not stay in Eadarus any longer. If he got caught by these Guardsmen, he'd never get to that spellcaster and go home.

  As Logan jogged around a corner, another squad of uniformed men came into view. One of the Guards shouted, pointing in Logan's direction, and the others echoed his shout, jerking their swords free of their sheaths. Numerous feet pounded the cobblestones, and Logan glanced around frantically. He couldn't go back-the other troop had been scouting that area.

  Logan sprang to his right, clambering upon the closest horse and jerking back the reins. The yellow stallion reared, twisting around and charging down the street. Hooves clattered noisily upon the cobblestones as the stolen horse and thief thundered westward. He had no idea where he was going, Logan realized, but he didn't need to go too far from Eadarus if the Guardsmen didn't pursue.

  They pursued.

  Its green mane and tail billowing out behind it, Logan's horse galloped onward. More Guards materialized from around corners, expressing their surprise and trailing after the young man. Gripping the reins protectively, Logan chanced a look behind him and almost fell out of the saddle. Three Guardsmen kept up the pursuit, mounted on darkly colored horses. Muttering an unhappy curse, Logan turned back around and swerved his horse to the right. The town suddenly dropped away behind him, and Logan was back out in the wilderness, following a northwesterly path. The trio of Guardsmen were gradually falling behind, their own mounts tiring much faster than Logan's stolen horse. Still, urged on by the fear of being caught, Logan drove his horse further, directing it off the path and into the forest. Foam began to spot the horse's mouth as Logan spied a large outcropping of rock to his left.

  "Not much further," he told the horse. "I don't think they'll look for us by the rocks. The area might be too treacherous for them to consider… I hope!"

  The yellow-and-green mount raced onward, its head bobbing up and down as if in response to Logan's comment. Clods of dirt the size of silver dollars were kicked up into the air by the thundering hooves, and the many trees and bushes of the forest were green and brown blurs of color.

  Logan began to feel the soreness creep into his rump as he continued bouncing up and down in the crude saddle. Abruptly, the stallion broke free of the forest's greenery and Logan drew in the reins. A small, sparkling pond lay before them, positioned just outside the outcropping of rocks. A few large boulders surrounded them, and a cavern gaped in one knoll of stone. A tiny froglike creature sprang into the pool of water and submerged; the water was so clear Logan could still see the amphibian as it descended to the bottom and hid beneath a rock.

  Logan dismounted and knelt beside the pond, splashing the clear liquid onto his face. His horse placed its snout into the water, shaking its head back and forth to clear its mouth of its spittle. As some water dribbled down Logan's face, a few droplets splashed into his eyes. An odd tingle filled his sockets, and his contact lenses swirled and blinked themselves clean. Immediately, Logan's vision increased, and he wonderingly touched his face as the sensation in his eyes faded.

  The young man was drawn away from the odd feeling when his horse jerked its head up and stiffened. Logan did likewise, turning in the direction of the dark cavern. His ears picked up an almost inaudible crunch, and he hastily led his horse behind a boulder for safety. There, crouched in the shadows, Logan listened, straining to pick out any more noises. Beside him, his newly acquired horse pawed the ground uneasily.

  There was a pause of about two minutes until Logan felt that he was just being jumpy. He flashed his mount a grin and began moving around the boulder back t
oward the pond. The horse, however, balked like a stubborn mule. Logan was almost jerked back as the reins went taut, and he turned to pull the horse out from behind the boulder by force. His clear vision happened to skim the sparkling pond as he turned, and he caught the reflection of the monstrosity behind him. With a startled exclamation, Logan spun about and faced the creature.

  The sunlight reflected off iron scales as the giant, newt-shaped beast lumbered free of its cavern. Two bullish horns grew from its grotesquely lizardlike face, and massive claws extended from its four limbs, each impaling the ground effortlessly with every shuffling step it took. Its large, oval-shaped eyes flickered as it spotted a prospective meal, and saliva oozed from its mouth.

  Swallowing hard, Logan withdrew Moknay's dagger. He was no longer dreaming, he remembered, and the possible death facing him had become much more real.

  The creature advanced, its forked tongue flicking between its inch-long fangs.

  •3• Jewel

  Logan stanced himself for battle, legs spread slightly apart for balance and Moknay's dagger shimmering in his right hand. His arm shook with fear as the iron-scaled creature shambled forward, an angry hiss sounding from its mouth. As the beast took another step in Logan's direction, the fear became overwhelming, and Logan almost swooned. His head felt light and airy, and his legs turned to quivering pillars of gelatin. His grip on his dagger faltered as he realized the monster before him could be his death coming to greet him warm-heartedly.

  A pestering buzz filled Logan's airy skull, swarming through his cranium with its message of disorder. You do not belong here, it accused him. How dare you set foot in this land? You are out of place. Go back to where you belong.

  A self-righteous anger rose up within Logan. I didn't ask to be sent here! he yelled back at the buzz. And I am going back home, but not because you're bothering me! I hate this place! I hate it! Do you hear me? I hate this place!

  A gurgling snarl sounded in Logan's ears, and he looked down to see the reptilian creature facing him bolt forward, its enormous body swaying to and fro in its charge. Brewing with anger, Logan turned on the beast. It is of this world! he snarled. I hate it as well! Wildly, he lashed out with his dagger.

  The blade skimmed off the creature's forearm, leaving a faint white streak across the grey scales. Gargling, the beast took three quick steps to one side, oval eyes flaring. Hardly two feet separated the combatants; but it was Logan who made the next move. Ablaze with his hatred, the young man swung about, plunging Moknay's gift directly into a nostril. Blood spumed into the air as the monster howled, rearing back its head in pain. With a silver flash, the dagger thrust out again, sinking in between the scales to penetrate the flesh of its throat. Crimson liquid splattered Logan's hand as he ripped the blade through the soft skin and tore it free.

  Blood bubbled from the creature's nostrils and mouth as it careened to one side, crashing to the earth with a faint gurgle. A limb twitched spasmodically, and the life in the large eyes dwindled and went out.

  Eyes narrowed with an unrelenting anger, Logan stared down at the corpse and then turned his sight inward. The buzz had also left him, as if he had slain it along with the monster, but Logan knew it would be back. As long as he was stuck here, that persistent feeling of wrongness would continue to plague him. But, for now, at least, it was gone, and Logan felt completely justified by what he had just done.

  Cleaning off Moknay's dagger and his hand, Logan turned around to see his green-and-yellow mount standing behind the large boulder where he had left it. Surprisingly, it hadn't bolted when the monster had charged, but it was reluctant to approach the grey-scaled corpse. Slowly, Logan replaced his weapon and mounted. He guessed it was about one in the afternoon, and instinctively glanced at his watch. He was surprised to see the digital display was gone; no numbers played across the surface. They had been replaced by a strange red-and-silver glow that faintly radiated from the watch's face. Frowning, Logan tugged his sleeve back over his watch and started his horse ahead at a slow trot.

  The young jogger looked about him as his mount made its way through the greenery. Trees, grass, and bushes flanked him, each almost identical with its neighbor. As anxiety began to gnaw its way through Logan's stomach, he realized he was badly-and irrevocably-lost. He had followed the path out of Eadarus, but God knows how far he went when he veered off the road. Now he could hardly tell north from south and east from west… and there was foliage all about him.

  Aimlessly, Logan let his horse lead until the sky turned a bloody shade of red. as the sun began to disappear behind him. Hoping he had not unwittingly passed Eadarus, Logan dismounted and tethered his horse to a nearby tree. As the red sky turned dark blue, the young man noticed the leather saddlebags hanging from the horse's sides. In his desperate flight from Eadarus he had not noticed them, nor had he seen them after his battle with that creature. Curiously, he opened them and withdrew four smaller pouches.

  Rifling through the first sack, Logan came across a few pieces of black bread, cheese, some fruit, and an odd-looking roll of what Logan guessed was beef jerky. The supplies did not look all that appetizing, but Logan's stomach growled eagerly, so he broke off a piece of bread. Then, while eating, he opened the second bag. He was going to whistle in awe, but the bread in his mouth forbade it. Instead, the young man held up the sole contents of the second bag: an enormous golden jewel. Even though the sun had vanished, the jewel glimmered with a resplendent sparkle all its own. Its faceted face reflected Logan's image a thousand times over; it seemed to have no definite center.

  Replacing the jewel, Logan turned to the third bag. It was a flask much like the one Thromar had had, and Logan was pleased to smell wine within rather than that hop-infested ale. He set the flask beside the pouch of food and untied the fourth bag. Rummaging around inside, Logan withdrew a smaller pouch and unknotted the leather string. He emptied the contents of the bag into his palm, and his eyes went wide as ten gold pieces spilled out into his hand.

  "Gold!" he breathed to his horse. "Do you believe it? Honest to God gold!"

  Shifting the gold back into its pouch, Logan closed and knotted the sack, placing it in the same bag with the jewel. Also within the fourth bag was a small metal box. Wonderingly, Logan unclasped the lid then tilted it back. The tin was full of a dark blue powder which Logan thought could have been snuff or tobacco or something like that-then it glimmered with a light blue aura, and Logan clamped the lid shut.

  Stars began to twinkle above Logan's head as he stripped off his sweat jacket and folded it into a makeshift pillow. Like a mother hen guarding her chicks, Logan pulled the bags under his arm and lay beside them protectively. He had Moknay's dagger at his belt and Thromar's Reakthi sword at his hip; he would be ready if anyone tried to steal his stolen valuables.

  Before he knew it, Logan had drifted off to sleep.

  A cricket that had been chirping close by suddenly stopped, and the night was still. Awakened by the stopping of a noise rather than the noise itself, Logan awoke with a start. His hand leapt to the dagger in his belt and freed it, wincing as its blade chafed along the belt and made a noise that seemed to echo across the blackness of night. His contact-covered eyes pierced through the darkness easily, and Logan spotted a shadowy form slinking serpentlike from a protective tree trunk to hide behind a bush. The figure was unmistakably human, and that fact frightened Logan all the more.

  Moving as quietly as he could, Logan shifted his legs, staying low to the ground in the hopes that he could meld in with the blackness. The stalker in the forest surfaced from behind its shielding of shrubbery and began moving toward Logan at a swift, loping gait. Triggered by fear, Logan jerked rigid, throwing his right arm forward and releasing the dagger. His water-cleansed eyes saw the stalker dodge to the left, a night-cloaked arm lashing upward and snatching the dagger out of mid-air. A stream of perspiration dribbled down the side of Logan's face as he went to withdraw his sword.

  "Does this mean you don't want to keep it
?" the night asked.

  Logan peered through the blackness. "Moknay?"

  The almost-invisible Murderer crept closer to Logan, grinning insanely. He held Logan's dagger by the blade, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "I thought it might be you," he said, " but I wanted to get closer to be sure. Where did you learn to throw a dagger like that?"

  "I didn't," Logan responded. "I just chucked the damn thing. Where's Thromar?"

  "I thought you might know," the Murderer replied. "I had to leave town in a hurry, and, from the looks of things, so did you. Are you an outlaw in Santa Monica?"

  "No way!" Logan cried. "I just might be mistaken for one here!"

  "'Mistaken'?" Moknay repeated. "Sparrill's finest are all outlaws, and proud of it! Bloody King Mediyan hasn't done a blasted thing about the Reakthi-lets them wander all over Denzil and Sparrill. The only thing that has kept the chestplated bastards out is the people themselves! That's why we keep the Guards out of Eadarus as well. Thromar himself is an outlaw. Branded a vigilante because he cared about Sparrill and had to bend a few of Mediyan's rules when he killed a Reakthi Imperator! And what does our fat ruler do? Thank him? No, he calls him an outlaw who has dared to take matters into his own hands!" Moknay snorted contemptuously. "What does Mediyan know about taking matters into his own hands? He just sits on that fat ass of his back in Magdelon where the Reakthi menace hasn't spread… yet."

  Logan was silent as the anger drained out of the Murderer. Gradually, Moknay's grey eyes dimmed and he turned to face Logan, his expression one of extreme hatred. "Are things as bad where you come from?" he queried.

  Logan shrugged. "Pretty much so. People fight one another in supposed times of peace, no one can afford anything with the way inflation keeps going up, lots of people need to steal just to eat, and a number of loonies go around butchering people because they have nothing better to do." The young man caught himself, clamping a hand over his mouth while his eyes bugged out of his head. Stupid! He kicked himself mentally. You're talking to one of these loonies!