The Jewel of Equilibrant w-1

by Steven Frankos

  Moknay grinned as if he could read the young man's thoughts. "I don't kill people for fun," he explained. "I kill only those who deserve to be killed… like those thugs out in front of the tavern. Consider what I do a form of… pest control."

  Only who decides who the pests are? Logan asked himself. Abruptly, he felt the darker portion of his mind swirl into life and taunt him with the fact that he himself had killed… more than once.

  The Murderer's left eyebrow shot up in question. "What have you got there?" he wondered, eyeing the bags cradled in Logan's arm.

  Logan gave the bags a hasty glance. "Oh, uh, nothing much. Just some provisions, that's all."

  "You like food that much?" Moknay quipped. "You're holding it like it contains all of Mediyan's treasures."

  Logan forced a chuckle, shaking his head and shrugging at the same time.

  The Murderer stepped closer, piercing Logan with his steely grey eyes. "You can tell me what you have," he said, handing back Logan's dagger as if in a gesture of peace. "It could be five thousand pieces of silver, and I wouldn't kill you for it. I'm an exterminator, remember? Not a 'looney.' "

  Are you? Logan mused.

  A pang of guilt jolted the young man out of his thoughts. This was Moknay, he told himself. A friend. He tried to save you from that wizard and almost got himself killed; he gave you that dagger as a gift; and he saved your life from those thugs and the Reakmor. He may have been called Moknay the Murderer in Eadarus, but it was, after all, just a name.

  Logan frowned. Yeah, like Jack the Ripper.

  Muttering to himself, Logan opened one bag and withdrew the tin of powder. Moknay flipped open the lid and sniffed at the dark blue grains.

  "Phew!" he exclaimed, screwing up his face. "That reeks!"

  Logan took back the tin. "It also glows," he reported.

  Moknay smirked as Logan extracted the money-pouch; however, when he peered inside the small bag, his smirk turned downward. "Huh? Ten? You're hiding ten gold pieces from me? Holy Agellic! That's not even enough to buy a good sword!"

  "I don't want a sword!" Logan snapped. "I've got a sword! I need the gold for food and maybe a change of clothes! These things seem to be a dead giveaway!"

  Moknay shrugged indifferently and tossed the gold back to Logan. The young man caught the bag in the air, realizing the Murderer had taken the remaining bags to contain nothing but food. He didn't need to know about the jewel… but, if he found out about it on his own, he could get awfully mad… maybe even go looney.

  "One more thing," Logan told the Murderer. He freed the glittering jewel.

  Moknay sprang back in fright, his grey cape fluttering about him. "Where did you get that?" he shouted.

  "From this bag."

  "Whose bag is that? Whose horse is this?" Moknay rapidly questioned.

  Nervousness took root at the barrage of questions. "I don't know!" Logan shouted back. "Why should it matter? It's just a jewel."

  "That's not a jewel, that is the Jewel!" Moknay declared. "You've made a terrible mistake! That Jewel should not be in anyone's hands but a wizard's!"

  Logan peered at the gem in his hands, expecting it to suddenly blow up in his face. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

  "That thing is the Jewel of Equilibrant," Moknay explained, "and it supposedly has something to do with the Wheel itself! You should have never had left your Santa Monica, my friend."

  "I didn't want to leave!" Logan barked. "Thromar was taking me to find some Smythe spellcaster to get me back."

  Moknay nodded in approval. "You must find him now; you must bring him the Jewel-if you didn't steal it from him in the first place. The powers in the Jewel must be controlled."

  Logan started to replace the Jewel when a fearful thought lodged in his mind like a bullet. "Oh, my God," he breathed. "That Reakthi spellcaster is after me, and, if he catches me, he catches this Jewel as well. If it has as much power as you say…"

  Moknay was still nodding gravely. "The only thing we can do is go back to Eadarus."

  "Go back?" Logan blinked. "And walk into the Guards?"

  "We need Thromar," the Murderer stated. "I have no idea where the Smythe hides-Thromar does. And besides, if we're going to be realistic, you and I would not survive long with the Jewel in our possession and Groathit dogging our heels."

  The Murderer turned to face the black forest and brought two fingers to his lips. A shrill whistle rent the night, and a grey horse with a black mane and tail thundered free of the gloom. Logan hurriedly untethered his own horse and scrambled into the saddle, glancing down at the saddlebags as he did. Just what I needed-complications!

  Spewing up dirt, Moknay's grey horse bolted off. Logan jerked on the reins and turned his horse to trail the Murderer. All the while a familiar voice was playing in Logan's head: Have you no fear of dreams? Only now, Logan knew, it was no longer a dream.

  The sun had been up for a half an hour when Eadarus finally came into sight over the treetops. The morning mist had already dissolved as the two horses galloped down the path, making their way toward the protective wall of the town. Through the early morning hours, a third rumble of hooves sounded, and Logan and Moknay threw one another expectant glances.

  "Someone's coming," the Murderer whispered, motioning Logan to pull in behind him.

  As the pair readied themselves to confront any Guardsmen, the third rider came into view. With an arrogant snort, Smeea tossed back her head, flinging her red mane behind her. Thromar's reddish brown hair whipped in the wind as he brought his horse to a stop, his black eyes wide beneath his bushy eyebrows. Moknay let out a sharp chuckle as he eyed the fighter, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "Well, well, well," he said with a smirk, "look who has seen fit to honor us with his presence."

  Thromar opened his mouth in astonishment. "Moknay?" he queried. "What brings you out of Eadarus, Murderer?"

  The lithe man continued smirking. "Have you been battling Reakthi so long that their chestplates have blinded you? Look behind me, oaf."

  Thromar jerked his head back in surprise. "Friend-Logan!" he roared. "So this is where you ran off to!" The huge fighter gave Moknay a glance. "If I had known you were going to make friends with the lowest, murderous, most treacherous man in all Denzil I would have never have left your side!"

  "What?" Moknay replied, indignant. "Have I no good points?"

  "Those are your good points," Thromar responded, laughing good-naturedly. He gave the road behind him an anxious glance. "I would suggest you turn around and follow me; Eadarus is swarming with Guardsmen. It seems a fight broke out in one of the taverns and two Reakthi were involved. And Mediyan's buffoons actually thought I had started it! Indeed!"

  "We know what happened," Moknay interrupted. "We were the cause. The Reakthi came looking for Logan, and I attempted to foil their plan by starting a brawl. We made a hasty retreat; still, I don't see why the Guards are suddenly so interested in Eadarus and Reakthi? Hmmm. Oh, well, anyway, during our escape, we've stumbled upon the Jewel of Equilibrant. We were coming back for your help."

  "My help?" Thromar boomed. "I'm not a bleeding spell-caster! Maybe friend-Logan can do something. Have you seen him take out his eye yet, Moknay?"

  "Logan is the one who found the Jewel," the Murderer retorted, "and, no, I have not seen him take out his eye. But what you don't seem to understand, Thromar the Thick-headed, is that Groathit was one of the Reakthi in Eadarus. He and Vaugen seem to have an interest in our strangely dressed friend, and, now that Logan's stumbled upon the Jewel, if they capture him, they also receive the most powerful item in the entire multiverse as an extra gift!"

  "By Brolark!" Thromar blurted. "I see what you mean! Well, no sense in waiting around; Mediyan's dungheads should be catching up with us any moment now. We'll just get off the roadway and travel at a slower pace until our mounts are rested. No sense in tiring ourselves out being chased by Guardsmen!"

  The three led their horses into the surrounding foliage and started t
heir trek westward. By noon Logan was positive he would never be able to find Eadarus again. He had been completely enclosed by trees again… and that bizarre sensation of mismatchment had returned. In an attempt to ignore the feeling, Logan turned toward his two companions.

  "Why are the Reakthi trying to invade your land?" he wondered.

  Thromar glanced over at the young man, a perplexed expression drawn across his bearded face. He abruptly remembered Logan knew nothing of the Reakthi and took in a deep breath.

  "Well, friend-Logan," he said, "it began long ago, years before I came into being. The Reakthi are a people who lived in a land far to the east, across the Sea of Hedelva. With many ships they set sail for Denzil, their eyes aglow with the prospect of more lands. When they first landed, we knew nothing of these chestplated strangers, and they were able to easily conquer the eastern portion of Denzil. After that, of course, the people started fighting back. Nonetheless, the Reakthi have strong spellcasters and were able to retain their conquered lands.

  "I grew up learning to hate the Reakthi since they made constant attacks on my home, which was in the western regions of Denzil. We were forced to flee into Sparrill as the Reakthi steadily advanced westward, but the people, when they realized they would get no help from Mediyan, rallied together and decimated any Reakthi troop. For many years the Reakthi were daunted, held back by a throng of loyal citizens who, unlike their King, cared about what happened to their homelands. Still, four Imperators took charge of the Reakthi Stronghold about ten years ago. They were Vaugen, Ikathar, Agasilaus, and Quarn. Agasilaus, a crafty devil if ever there was one, suggested a slow and almost unnoticeable advance into Denzil. The others agreed, and small bands of Reakthi made their way deeper into our land. By the time they were noticed, Vaugen and Ikathar had already half completed building fortresses on the very western border of Denzil, and the Reakthi Stronghold had moved just north of Lake Xenois. Any city or town the Reakthi had crept past, they now went back to and destroyed.

  "One of the first things I did against the Reakthi was seek out Agasilaus and slay him. That seems to have saved Sparrill from the same fate as Denzil. Vaugen is the only Imperator we must be cautious of, although he is not as devious as his friend was. Quarn and Ikathar can be ignored; Ikathar is too brash and impetuous to do anything right, while Quarn does not seem all that interested in conquest any longer. Oh, we still have problems with small bands roaming through Sparrill, but the Reakthi can never close around us like they did in Denzil so long as Eadarus still stands. If the Reakthi gain Sparrill, the thieves and cutthroats there would lose their trade, and there is nothing more furious than a thief who has been replaced by a Reakthi."

  Moknay glanced over at Logan, nodding. "As I mentioned before," he stated, "Sparrill's finest are the outlaws."

  Logan nodded back to the two men, and the unnerving buzz came back. "What about Droth?" the young man continued. "Everybody thinks I come from Droth. Where's that?"

  Thormar tilted back his massive head and laughed. "Droth is a small island north of Dragon's Neck. It has always been known as the setter of many strange customs."

  Logan grinned. "Like L.A.," he remarked, chuckling. The young man winced as he spoke the name. Like a swarm of hornets, the disharmony converged on him, demanding he return there. Gritting his teeth in response, Logan asked his companions: "Just why are the Reakthi after your land?"

  Thromar and Moknay both blinked. "What?" they both asked.

  "Why are they after your land?" Logan repeated. "There has to be a reason. I don't see why they should come all this way just to conquer you unless they wanted to gain something."

  Thromar scratched his beard. "You ask puzzling questions, friend-Logan. I had always thought the Reakthi were just lusting after lands, but your inquiry has opened my eyes to the fact that, when Agasilaus was in command, they were somewhat disciplined, as if they were searching for something in particular."

  "Any idea what?" Logan persisted, fighting back the mismatchment.

  Moknay ran a finger across his mustache. "I have none," he admitted, "and I do not think the Reakthi do either."

  Thromar nodded in agreement with the Murderer, looking over at Logan. "You are very good at asking questions, friend-Logan," he complimented. "Is that what you did in Santa Monica?"

  "No, I was the focus operator for a film crew."

  "Focus operator? Is that why you are able to take out your eye?" Thromar wondered.

  "I don't take out my eye!" Logan replied, raising his arms. "Jesus! What would you have done if I had had a glass eye?"

  "Glass eye?" Thromar mumbled. "Is that anything like a glass jaw?"

  "Or glassware?" Moknay added, grinning in jest.

  Thromar looked around. "Glass where?"

  With a mischievous smirk, Moknay sprang from his saddle and looked about them carefully. Logan halted his horse, watching the Murderer inspect the forest. When he was about to ask what Moknay was doing, the Murderer turned back to his companions.

  "I think we can stop here for a while," he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes.

  Following Thromar's lead, Logan dismounted and tethered his mount. He looked about the trees as Moknay had done and was satisfied when he could see or hear nothing forbidding amongst them. Thromar had plopped down on the ground beside him, hungrily shoving raisins into his mouth. Feeling hungry himself, Logan withdrew his beef jerky and tore off a piece. He stuffed it in his mouth and began to chew, and immediately made a sour face. The stuff tasted like cardboard! he mused. And it had the same texture as well! Blecch! Still, Logan had to eat, so he diligently kept gnawing away.

  Thromar spoke up, his mouth full of dried grapes: "Looking for something, Moknay?"

  Logan turned to see the Murderer was still staring skyward, his grey eyes flickering. Curious, Logan turned his gaze heavenward and peered into the blue sky. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary… in fact, there weren't even any helicopters or jets to fly overhead. There was only a lonesome hawk circling through the clouds.

  To Logan's surprise, Moknay withdrew a dagger and silver flashed. The hawk veered to the left, diving sharply toward the trio as it dodged the weapon. Now Thromar was on his feet, his bloodstained sword held tightly in his meaty hand. Confused, Logan turned on the two.

  "What are you doing?" he said to Moknay. "Practicing on birds?"

  Moknay reached into his belt and withdrew an oddly shaped weapon. It had a golden hilt like all the Murderer's daggers, but it branched into three curved blades, one on the right near the base of the hilt, one on the left closer to the top, and the third slightly off-center and arced like a crescent moon. At first Logan had no idea what the strange, many-bladed thing was; then he recalled reading about throwing knives and recognized Moknay's weapon for what it was.

  "That bird," Moknay snarled, holding the knife in his hand, "may just be Groathit's doing. A spy."

  "A spy?" Logan exclaimed. "A spying bird?"

  "Of course," Thromar put in. "You wouldn't think Moknay would waste daggers on some harmless flock of feathers, now do you? If that bird is working for that Reakthi scumcaster, it will tell him where you are…" The fighter lowered his voice. "… and the Jewel."

  Moknay nodded his head dismally. "And there may be no escape."

  The ebony-winged bird banked, swooping to the right and winging its way eastward. It opened its beak and cawed loudly, "No escape! No escape!"

  The three watched it diminish into the clouds.

  The afternoon slowly gave way to evening, and the blood-red hue began to tint the sky as the sun dropped down behind the mountains. The grey, yellow, and black horses slowly wound their way through the labyrinth of trees, and Logan could see the path out of Eadarus to his right; Moknay and Thromar had promised him that they would return to it by nightfall.

  As the moon floated into the sky, the trio did direct their horses back onto the dirt road, and they continued their leisurely pace. Pale trickles of moonbeams sprinkled the path, and th
e moon itself hung directly before them. Logan was almost sure that if he could ride to the end of the road, he would reach the moon.

  A dark spot marred the yellow-green moon before them, as if the moon were issuing forth some black object toward the three. The closer it came, the more detail it attained. Leathery wings flapped in rapid succession on either side of the figure, and skinny, sticklike limbs protruded from its humanoid body. It continued to grow, taking on more features with each beat of its wings. Large, toadlike eyes glared in the moon's light, and a small, rounded mouth opened wide, releasing a soul-wrenching shriek.

  Veering sharply, the pale creature swooped.

  "By Agellic!" Moknay exclaimed. "Is that a Demon I see?"

  Thromar nodded calmly. "That it is," he stated, freeing his sword. "What's wrong? Afraid of a puny thing like that?"

  "Demons are not a common sight in Sparrill, Thromar," the Murderer answered, slipping two daggers from his chest strap, "but we know for certain Logan does indeed have the Jewel. The Demon must have sensed its powers and wants it for itself."

  "Well, let it come!" bellowed Thromar. "I'll take it to Gangrorz's Tomb with three blows! Hack! Slash! Tear! Then I'll dance on its corpse!"

  Moknay turned away from the Demon, smirking. "Would you care to wager on that remark? Say, five gold pieces?"

  "Make it ten!"

  "So be it! Ten it is!"

  Thromar stood up in his crude saddle, his huge sword held before him. "That's more like it," he grunted, slashing downward as the Demon came into range.

  The swooping Demon screeched, halting itself in mid-air. Thromar's weapon ripped across a leathery wing, bringing a yellowish white blood to the surface of the pale skin. The fighter, however, spilled out of his saddle, unbalanced by his mighty swing.

  Emitting a triumphant scream, the Demon flashed downward.

  Yellow blood spurted as the creature impaled itself upon Thromar's upraised sword. Releasing a victorious cry of his own, Thromar tore free his weapon and swept it in a massive arc. The heavy blade met little resistance as it passed through the thin neck and severed the Demon's spinal cord. In a spatter of blood, the decapitated Demon crumpled to the ground, its toadlike eyes still blinking on its separated head.