maggot alive… and almost as insane as his master, Zackaron. Barthol told me certain rumors have it that he wields a Triblade. If we were to fight him, one of us is surely to perish.'
'Triblade?' repeated Logan.
'A huge, heavy weapon,' Thromar answered. 'You'd have to be mad to use one! Has something near three blades on a razor-sharp hilt with barbed teeth atop the center blade. The deadliest weapon in existence, if you're strong enough to lift the damn thing let alone swing and thrust with it! I had no idea this Pembroke fellow could.' The huge fighter grunted again. 'Oh, well, he's still a maggot.'
Their horses having slowed, Logan turned to peer through the trees. His blue eyes filled with puzzlement as he was unable to pinpoint the wiry servant amongst the foliage. With an urgent move of his hand, he pointed out the empty forest to his companions. Moknay's eyes glittered in thought but he remained silent; Thromar snorted.
'Hah!' the fighter exclaimed. 'He's run off! Must have recognized me for who I am!'
Moknay grimly shook his head. 'I doubt if he's run off,' he muttered. 'It may not have occurred to you, Thromar, but Pembroke has followed us all this way on foot. I don't think he's going to spot us and then run off without trying to get his horse back. He'll try something before summoning Zackaron.'
The Murderer's horse suddenly reared up in fright, and Logan almost spilled to the ground as his horse did the same. Only Smeea remained on her feet, although she snorted like her master.
Blocking their path was the gaunt Pembroke, a mindless smile drawn across his lean and hungry visage. His villainous Triblade flashed in the sunlight, and Logan gaped when he saw the servant used only one hand to wield the titanic weapon.
'He has caught you at last,' Pembroke grinned wickedly. 'You are very observant to assume Pembroke would try to regain that which is his. Now give it to him. Return the beast and Child to Pembroke.'
'Child?' Thromar wondered, asking the question for his companions as well. 'We don't have any bleedin' child, maggot!'
The Triblade glinted as it wavered in Pembroke's hand. 'Child,' he sighed. 'Pembroke's Child. Infant of Pembroke and the multiverse, she is. Beautiful… Most beautiful.' The insane servant turned on them, his eyes radiating hatred. 'Jewel!' he shrieked. 'Give me my Jewel!'
The scream seemed to drive into Logan's brain, and his horse and Moknay's skittered backwards fearfully. There was something about the madman that triggered reactions of terror within man and beast. It's no wonder why Logan's horse ran so swiftly from Eadarus and remained with the young man rather than return to its rightful master.
'Give you your Jewel?' Moknay retorted in a resentful tone, and Logan immediately feared for the Murderer's life. 'What do you take me for? A fool? I am Zackaron's new servant! The old one was done away with! I care for the Jewel now.'
Pembroke's dark eyes flared as he stood in thought. An almost comical frown crossed his gaunt features, and his Triblade lowered somewhat as he pondered. Then he spat, 'No! You lie! Pembroke is faithful! He would not be done away with! Give him his Child! Give me my Jewel!'
Logan swallowed hard, glancing about in all directions. There did not seem to be any escape from the black- haired lunatic before them. Moknay was closest to the servant and boxed in by Logan and Thromar behind him. If anyone made any move, Pembroke would surely slay the Murderer and then go for the others. Maybe they should give him back the Jewel regardless of what Barthol had advised.
'Give me my Jewel!' Pembroke howled, raising his Triblade to strike the Murderer.
'Stop!' Logan cried out, stretching out an arm as if to hold off the blow.
Pembroke's dark eyes flicked like a serpent's tongue to land upon Logan. The unbridled fierceness within those eyes made Logan shudder as he reached down for the leather pouch hiding the Jewel.
'I'll give you your stupid Jewel,' Logan told him, sweat breaking out across his brow as the black eyes brightened, 'but not if you hurt my friends.'
'Friend-Logan!' Thromar protested, his beady eyes going wide.
'No one's going to die for me!' Logan snapped, cutting off any other comments. 'He can take the Jewel and his damn horse! I'm not letting Moknay get killed to save me!'
'A noble sentiment, friend,' Moknay answered, 'but you need that horse to get back home; and Sparrill needs someone more trustworthy than Pembroke to hold that Jewel.'
'Silence!' Pembroke roared, saliva spraying. 'Pembroke is trustworthy!' The servant turned back to Logan, smiling hideously. 'You are a smart one,' he said. 'Give him his Child.'
Logan looked down at the magnificent Jewel he now held in his hands. Golden light leapt from the gem as the sunlight streamed into its many facets, and a halo of energy surrounded the Jewel. As if jealous for Logan's attention, the sensation of displacement rose up.
Pembroke's smile widened as he stepped closer to take the Jewel.
There was an unexpected screech from the heavens, and a blur of darkness descended upon the servant. Wings flapping, Groathit's spy swooped again, its beak flashing like a dagger's blade.
'Cannot!' the bird croaked. 'Belong to Groathit! Cannot!'
Pembroke let out a startled shout and stumbled back. The ebony hawk dove a third time, forcing the wiry man away from the three on horseback. Losing his balance, the mad servant tumbled down a small slope, a cloud of dust rising into the air behind him.
'Go!' Moknay yelled, digging his heels into his horse's flanks.
The colorful horses charged forward, leaving behind Pembroke and the angry bird. Clutching the sparkling Jewel to his chest, Logan glanced back to see Pembroke leap to his feet, his black eyes blazing. A razor-sharp talon struck him above his eyebrow, and Pembroke stumbled back, blood dribbling down his forehead. Instantly, his Triblade came into play, blazing silver as it severed the air. Feathers and blood flew into the sky as the three- bladed weapon creased the bird's breast. With a furious squawk, Groathit's hawk veered to the right, picking up momentum as it swooped for Pembroke's face. A second flash of the Triblade separated the bird's head from its body.
'I would love to wade through your vile blood, fowl,' Pembroke mocked the corpse, 'but I must be after my Jewel. It is mine, and mine alone!'
Logan blinked as he saw Pembroke stagger back onto the path, the blood of Groathit's bird sparkling upon the many blades of his weapon. Bloodied feathers had adhered themselves to Pembroke's spiky hair as he sheathed his Triblade and sprinted after the three.
'He's coming after us!' warned Logan.
'That maggot killed the bird!' Thromar boomed. 'We couldn't touch it, and that maggot kills it! He must be dangerous!'
The trio of horses charged on, relentlessly pursued by the lean Pembroke. The servant's legs blurred as his pace increased, and his tattered cloak whipped out behind him. Logan's eyebrows raised in shock when he glanced back again to see the mad servant was even closer.
'Holy shit!' he cursed. 'He's gaining on us!'
'Pembroke has been around the Jewel long enough,' Moknay replied, not bothering to turn around. 'Keep moving, friend. You did not want to see me dead-I have no desire to see you in a similar state.'
Logan urged his yellow-and-green mount to faster speeds, grasping tightly to the Jewel. The feeling of disharmony remained about the young man as he rode onward, his face beaten by the high winds. For the first time, his eyes began to smart as the wind slashed into them and forbade him from blinking soothing tears into his contacts. His vision began to blur as his contact lenses began to dry, and it hurt for Logan to even blink. His eyes were red and sore, and the horses' bits were covered with foam by the time the trio lost Pembroke. Gradually, and somewhat reluctantly, Moknay slowed his mount; the nearly blind Logan and Thromar did the same.
The young man from Santa Monica hardly heard Moknay as he tried again and again to blink some tears onto his dry lenses while replacing the Jewel.
'We appear to be in more trouble than before,' the Murderer was saying. 'Not only do we now have Pembroke to contend with, but Groathit's out one spy. The next pawn he sends out may be just as fast as that bird but deadlier. The three of us will never get the Jewel to the Smythe if that happens.'
'What do you suggest?' Thromar asked. 'Find more help? Unless we go out of our way, there's not a town for leagues.'
