The three led their horses into the surrounding foliage and started their 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 the 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
