Druid Launce could, the guilt inside Logan whispered; and the young man flinched in quiet pain at the thought.
"Didn't you say Vaugen may still be riding after you?" Cyrene questioned, brushing at her long, dark blonde hair.
Moknay nodded, looking out toward the Hills.
"Then wouldn't it be better to take the forest route?" continued Cyrene. "Confuse him even more?"
Logan caught an odd flicker passing through Cyrene's blue eyes. The girl was up to something, his paranoia advised him. She sounded so determined to run headlong into the Imperator himself; why was she suggesting a route that would cause Vaugen to lose them?
"I don't think Vaugen will stay on the path," Moknay said, and Logan noticed the brief frown that crossed Cyrene's full lips. "The roads do offer the safety of not running into him!" The grey eyes flashed to Logan. "And if Logan thinks Pembroke is far behind us, maybe the path is our best bet. I'm still a little uneasy about Groathit's new pawn-if he's got one."
Thromar threw up his brawny arms in victory. "We did it, friend-Logan!" he cheered. "We stay on the road!"
Logan, however, was not listening to the bearded fighter. The young man's eyes were trained on Cyrene as she stalked away from the group, mumbling under her breath. She deliberately wanted to take the forest route so that it would slow them down, Logan realized. That way Vaugen would have a better chance of catching up to them. Stupid female!
Cyrene felt Logan's gaze and turned about. The anger that was ablaze in her eyes died abruptly and a strange, oddly friendly emotion took its place. A beautiful smile came to her lips before she swung away and continued for her horse.
Was she flirting with me? Logan wondered, and a little chill of excitement made its way into his sweat pants.
The sensation of mismatchment pounced like a lion, devouring the ideas that formed in Logan's mind. As he reacted, the anger that churned inside him also sprang forth, grasping the opposing feeling in a deathlock. The tingle of disharmony slipped the grip and formulated an attack of its own, and Logan was haplessly caught in the middle.
"Friend-Logan!" Thromar shouted in awe. "Your arm! What's happening to your arm?"
Forcing himself free of the battling sensations, Logan gave his arms a curious glance. His blue eyes enlarged when he saw the bloody glare sprouting from his left forearm near his sword wound. Instant panic consumed him as he feared Groathit was magically draining him of his blood, but then he noticed the tiny silver flecks swirling amongst the crimson, and he pulled back his sleeve.
The blank face of his digital watch was blazing like a miniature bonfire. Red-and-silver light fairly burst from his wrist, slicing into the young man's eyes like the glare of the Jewel the night before. Shaking his head free of the light, the anger and displacement retreated, and his watch dimmed.
The others were staring at Logan dumbly.
"By Brolark," breathed Thromar, "what an array of tricks you have."
The rage Logan thought was gone returned. "I am not a spellcaster!" he roared. "If I was a goddamn spellcaster, I wouldn't be here! I wouldn't have this goddamn Jewel leaking energy! I'd have left the very morning I arrived here!"
"We have our problems, friend," Moknay replied, "but Sparrill's not all that bad. Since when was your world a paradise of some sort?"
"It isn't!" thundered Logan. "It's a rat-hole! But at least it's my world! Here there's nothing but confusion for me, and people dying every time they lend a hand! Even my world wasn't like that!"
The grimness and pessimism went out of the Murderer's eyes. "Friend, every world has its problems, but every world has its people. I told you before the people have kept the Reakthi out, not the Guards. That's the way we are here. We will gladly help anyone who opposes the invaders… even if it means laying down our lives. But we're not fools. We will try every conceivable way to escape with everyone's life intact. And we almost did that when Vaugen and his bastards attacked."
"Almost?" Logan moaned. "Almost isn't good enough! Almost cost Druid Launce his life!"
"Something that happened because he wanted to save us, the Jewel, and Munuc's people from the Reakthi," Thromar put in. "Friend-Logan, you must not blame yourself. Are the people in your world so heroic that no one dies in combat?"
A disgusting realization came to the young man. "No," he sighed, "no one comes to your aid when you're in 'combat.' We all just stand around and wait for someone else to do the helping."
Logan's three companions were still until Moknay clamped a gloved hand upon the young man's shoulder. "I would never have guessed you came from such a world," he said. "Since I have known you, never once have you let someone else act for you. It's unfortunate you want to return so badly, because Moknay the Murderer is proud to call you friend."
A faint smile formed on Logan's lips as he glanced from Thromar to Moknay to Cyrene. Both fighter and Murderer were beaming like proud fathers, and Cyrene was also watching Logan with respect in her eyes. And Logan could tell that-unlike in his world-these people said and meant what their hearts felt.
And Logan's desire to return home lessened just slightly.
There was an opaque gleam in the eye like the glitter of a pearl as Spellcaster Groathit stalked out of the small town of Plestenah and pushed his way through the forest. Horses snorted nervously as the sorcerer rejoined the throng of Reakthi that awaited him in the brush.
Grey eyes as cold as ice trained upon the spellcaster.
"Well?" sneered Vaugen.
"Reakmor Farkarrez did indeed catch up with them in town, and not one Sparrillian even suspected his men as being Reakthi," the wizard reported. "They engaged and battled the one called Logan and some blonde and all four men were slain. Unfortunately, if Farkarrez had used his mind, he could have easily taken the Jewel since the fools had left it in the horse's saddlebag when they entered the hostel where they were confronted."
"Farkarrez was a good man," Vaugen replied calmly. "I am surprised he did not think to search, or, perhaps, even slay their mounts. But we now know that-without chestplates-perhaps we can once again attempt Agasilaus's ploy and conquer Sparrill as we conquered Denzil."
"We have not conquered Denzil," Groathit mentioned, mounting his horse.
The Imperator flashed him a vile gaze. "One town does not make the whole of a land!" he snapped.
"No, but it is almost humorous to think that Vaugen has been unable to conquer one lone city," the wizard mocked.
Rage steamed within the armored chest of the Imperator, and blood rushed to his face, making his scars almost brighten. "You toy dangerously with my anger, spellcaster," he warned. "True, we have been unable to conquer Eadarus, but we have now learned that we can encircle these idiots if we dispose of our armor and keep our movements unseen. Then even Eadarus will be unable to hold off the Reakthi from all sides!" The grey eyes blazed angrily. "It is odd you are so quick to criticize me when the means of our ultimate conquest is wandering around out there with the Jewel of Equilibrant in his saddlebags!, Why aren't you doing something about detaining them? I even risked and lost one of my best Reakmors to hinder them."
Groathit snorted contemptuously as the horses skirted the town. " 'Best Reakmor'!" he spat. "Farkarrez is a sadist!"
The Imperator sneered in vexation and something resembling mockery. "Was," he corrected. "Farkarrez was a sadist."
The wizard's bad eye seemed to twinkle with foul thoughts. "No," he answered with a skull-like smile. "I mean is."
The spellcaster's cackling laughter tore through the forest and sent a chill wafting across the winds.
Logan stared at the ground as the four horses made their way through the trees, lost in his musings. Up until that morning, he realized, he had only tolerated this world. He had been zapped here and had no say in the matter, so he had come to the conclusion that he'd travel across the land, get the Smythe's help, and leave. He had not even noticed the land's good points, especially, as Moknay had pointed out, the people. Still, Logan longed to return to
his world, his way of life, his occupation, his apartment with running water and toilets.
Sparrill, he came to the conclusion, was a nice place to visit, but he didn't want to live there.
Peering at the dirt beneath his horse's hooves, Logan did not even see the Jewel in his saddlebag flare yellow and then dim.
Cyrene drew her horse up alongside Logan, and a soft hand touched his shoulder. "Is something the matter?" she asked.
Logan blinked. "No, no, just wrestling with my thoughts," he answered, and could not help noticing the lovely smile Cyrene watched him with. It was odd, but the blonde was almost glad they had reached the forest. Wouldn't she ever stop hoping to run into Vaugen?
Every nerve in Logan's body exploded, and the young man was seized by a paroxysm of agony as the sensation of disharmony brutally ambushed him. Sweat splashed across his brow, and his throat constricted, denying his lungs air. Gasping, he nearly pitched off his horse, but Cyrene's soft hand steadied him. Moknay and Thromar whipped about, instantly alarmed when they saw the young man's pale face and convulsive actions.
A soft hum began to split the air, and Moknay could feel the hairs on his arm prick up as if at attention. Quizzically, the Murderer swung his head in the direction of the buzz, and his grey eyes widened. A swift glove tapped Thromar upon one arm and the fighter also spotted what Moknay had. Wonderingly looking from Logan to his friends, Cyrene caught their startled gaze and also faced northwest.
A flare of man-shaped blackness was steadily making its way toward them.
Sickness flowed throughout Logan as the overpowering feeling started to recede. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he spotted the humanoid figure of blackness stride toward them, a bizarre hum surrounding the form.
"What… What is that?" the young man forced out, drenched by perspiration.
Moknay's grim mien was grimmer than usual. "A Black-body," the Murderer explained, grasping his strap of daggers tightly.
Blackbody? Logan asked himself. Damn, that sounded familiar. Back on Earth a black body was something used in physics, right? Had something to do about being the perfect absorber and emitter of radiation, didn't it? Blast! Logan was no physics major… he still had trouble deciphering fractions! But he did recall something about black-body radiation and that its applications were pretty much limited. Now how in the world did a creature such as a Blackbody exist here? Was there a connection between the worlds somewhere?
The Blackbody advanced, flickering with an eerie aura of ebony light. As it neared, the hum accompanying it grew louder, and they all could feel the power vibrating through the air.
Cyrene's deep blue eyes were overspilling with horror. "But I thought Blackbodies were cosmic," she protested. "What in the name of Agellic is one doing here?"
Like an empathetic leech, Logan sensed the girl's terror and felt his own fears bubbling into existence.
"Blackbodies are cosmic," Moknay informed the blonde, "but remember what Logan has in that saddlebag. We're carrying something that's threatening the very balance of order, and this Blackbody has probably come to find out about- last night's excitement. They are responsible for the very fundamental nature of matter and would be a little concerned if matter started to fall apart."
Like on Earth! Logan noted, ignoring the Murderer's sarcasm. Black-body radiation was used by physicists to study the fundamental nature of matter and quantitative…? No, quantum mechanics.
The Blackbody came closer and then stopped, tilting its flaring black head in their direction. Vaguely, Logan could see two white orbs of light where its eyes should have been.
"You hold sway to the entire multiverse," the Blackbody accused, pointing a blazing ebony finger at Logan; it shook its head. "You should not be here."
The young man looked at Moknay. This thing wasn't referring to the Jewel-it was talking about Logan himself!
The fury instantly flared into life inside him. "I don't want to be here!" Logan barked at the astonishing black form. "I am going back!"
The Blackbody took two more steps toward them. "But already you have uncovered a portion of the Macrocosm," it stated. "You must not be allowed to do so again if you ever wish to return to your world. You must give me That Which Balances the Wheel."
"Get out of our way, Blackbody," Thromar warned. "We are taking the Jewel to the Smythe, and we're not about to hand it over to some creature that can't control it any better than friend-Logan here!"
"Silence, inferior organism," the Blackbody ordered. "I am a Being of the Megacosmos and have come to warn you. Know you not that no power was released during the previous revolution of your sphere? There was an upheaval in the natural Balance of things, yet the Equilibrant was quenched before discharging its energies. This has caused much of the Balance to fragment." The white orbs flamed. "There must also be some Order to Chaos. I have come to drink the release that was staunched."
At that, Moknay freed a large dagger from his belt and jerked on the handle. A second blade slid free from the first and proceeded to unfold into three separate blades on one hilt. Moknay now held four shafts of steel, and Logan saw the resemblance to the Indian knife, the katar. What the Murderer held was a combination sliding and forking katar, and it looked exceptionally dangerous in his grey-gloved hands.
The Blackbody ignored the knives and continued forward.
There was a moment of quiet as Logan scanned his companions. Moknay and Thromar both were edgy, weapons out and ready. Cyrene had drawn back, her face pale from the fear that billowed up inside her. Turning his attention to himself, Logan disregarded the wrongness that still lurked within him and pulled free his own blade. This ebony thingamajig wanted to bleed the Jewel of more energy-and they couldn't allow it to do so.
"We will not hesitate to slay you," Moknay told the crackling form.
The Blackbody paid him no heed, its white eyes wavering as it closed in on Logan.
Roaring, Thromar rushed the creature, swinging his blood-caked sword in a powerful downward sweep. The Blackbody walked on as the fighter spilled from his mount, his weapon passing harmlessly through the flaring blackness. Logan caught the stifled gasp from Cyrene as the Blackbody approached, its eyes lusting after the Jewel at Logan's side.
"Logan," Moknay said over his shoulder, "perhaps you should take the Jewel and flee. I don't think our weapons will stop it."
Perplexed, the young man looked once more at the oncoming Blackbody. At least it didn't emit radiation… he hoped.
"I think your friend is right, Matthew," agreed Cyrene. "There's no way to defeat a Blackbody."
"Only because no one has ever confronted one before," Moknay put in, grey eyes locked on the blazing beast.
Angered by his initial attempt, Thromar heaved himself off the forest floor and hacked at the glowing form. Numerous times his sword slashed through the black energy, but the creature's eyes remained riveted to Logan.
Logic beat back the anxiety and Logan felt it better to flee. So far the Blackbody did not appear to be a threat to their lives, nor did they appear to threaten its life. It was probably better to get away from the beast rather than let it walk through the trees to suck the Jewel dry.
As Logan pulled on his horse's reins, the Blackbody shrieked, sensing what the young man had decided. The energy-being lunged, stretching out fingers made up of pitch-black power. Moknay yelled a challenge, positioning himself between the creature and Logan, his katar jabbing out. Thromar let out a frightened curse as the Murderer's hand and knife passed through the beast and almost speared the fighter on the opposite side.
"Harmeer's War Axe!" he cursed. "Call your shots, Murderer!"
Energy crackled and spat as the Blackbody passed through both Moknay and his horse. Agony coursed through the Murderer as his flesh fused with the creature, and his horse reared in pain. Black sparks flared throughout the foliage as Moknay threw himself from his mount, his black hair erect as if charged with static electricity.
The Blackbody contin
ued its lunge.
"Friend-Logan!" Thromar boomed. "Jump! Don't let it touch you!"
Cyrene let out a scream as the Blackbody finished phasing through Moknay's horse and reached out for Logan. It seemed the girl didn't like to battle anything but Reakthi, Logan mused.
Black tendrils of energy stabbed out and seeped into Logan's saddlebag. The young man's green-and-yellow mount reared, terrified by the crackling figure of ebony. Logan's mind, meanwhile, kicked him: Stupid! it barked. Stop thinking about the girl when this thingamajig is after the Jewel!
Setting aside the feeling of misplacement, Logan lashed out with his Reakthi blade. Golden light began to leak from his saddlebag as the Blackbody fed off the Jewel, unfeeling of the steel that passed through its form. Unseated as Thromar was, Logan felt himself fall… directly into the Blackbody.
Both Blackbody and Logan screamed as one ripped through the other. Something fiery red was flaming around the young man's throat as he tumbled through the ebony figure, and pain and the sensation of disagreement seemed to short-circuit his brain cells.
Moknay, Thromar, and Cyrene watched as the young man hit the ground, the stone talisman about his neck emitting a blinding red glare. The Blackbody arched its back, energy-formed fingers clutching at the air. Its dying wail resounded in their ears as it shattered into strands of black power and faded.
The agony and wrongness still lingered as soft, gentle fingers lifted Logan's head from the carpet of grass. Thinking his contacts were blurred, he blinked a few times, clearing his vision until he could make out Cyrene kneeling over him. The heavily bearded face of Thromar peered over her slim shoulder, yellowed teeth grinning.
"You're the first person to ever defeat a Blackbody, friend-Logan," he boasted. "Oh, the bards shall sing of this battle!"
"Seems that talisman doesn't detect magic," came Moknay's voice from out of Logan's line of vision. It sounded pain-filled and weary. "Seems to be able to dispel at times."
The Jewel of Equilibrant w-1 Page 13
