mused. Guardian sprites and a Heart for the land itself… and the ability to blame all mishap on the 'Voices of the Dark.' Then again, what were myths and religions but ways to explain things that would otherwise be unexplainable? Such as the formation of a lake?
'What about the other sprites?' Logan asked out of curiosity.
'Glorana and Salena deeply mourned their sister's departure and melded with the remaining two rivers in Sparrill to be with Roana. That is why all rivers intersect.'
Munuc, sitting with Thromar on Smeea, abruptly screeched. Pulled forcibly out of his thoughts, Logan jerked his head up as Druid Launce reined in his horse. Thromar extracted his massive sword, peering about the foliage with a distasteful glare. Moknay also withdrew his weapon, straining his ears to pick out any unnatural sounds. Only Logan was unready for what happened next.
Two dark horses emerged from the forest.
'This is as far as you shall ever get,' a familiar voice croaked.
Logan swung his head to the left and snarled to himself. The jagged, blue-grey hair and silver chestplate seemed to shimmer mockingly back at him, and the glazed left eye singled out Logan and voicelessly accused him of its blindness. The second rider was examining the quartet as curiously as they were examining him. Folded across a pitch-black chestplate, his thick arms were riddled, as was his face, with white lines of scar tissue. Grey- black hair was neatly groomed atop his head, and dull grey eyes scrutinized the four.
For no apparent reason, a smirk drew across his face.
'So this is Matthew Logan.'
The silver chestplated Reakthi nodded.
'So, Groathit,' growled Moknay, 'who's your friend?'
The black-chestplated man smiled. 'Allow me to introduce myself: I am Vaugen.'
•6• Imperator
The foliage rustled and four horsemen emerged beside Vaugen and Groathit, their chestplates blazing in the morning light. Logan heard more hooves to his left and pivoted about to see eight more men flank them. Another eight sprouted like weeds on their right, and five more horses blocked the rear, their riders certain they had boxed in their quarry.
Moknay's grey eyes leapt from Reakthi to Reakthi, his fingers twitching around the daggers he held. 'I fear we are in trouble,' he noticed, his grim expression growing even fouler.
Twenty-five Reakthi, Logan counted, plus Groathit and Vaugen! What could be so important about Logan that the Reakthi Imperator would leave the safety of his castle and come after him himself? That just didn't make sense to the young man as he sat and gaped at the warriors surrounding him.
Descending upon invisible wings at the most inappropriate of times, the feeling of disunion hovered about Logan's head.
Vaugen leaned forward on his dark horse, his grey eyes boring into Logan's blue ones. 'I must congratulate you, Matthew Logan, for being the only man to anger Groathit and still be alive.' He paused a moment to give the half-blinded spellcaster a snide glance. 'It was so unfortunate that you took up sides; you and I are so very much alike-we would have gotten along so well. And besides, we had need of you.' The Imperator stroked his chin. 'Still, you do have something that may be of value to us.'
Cocky little bastard, isn't he? Logan asked himself, clenching his teeth as Vaugen held out a scarred hand.
'The Jewel, Matthew Logan,' he said softly. 'Give me the Jewel.'
'Blow it out your ear,' the young man retorted, searching desperately for any breach in the Reakthi ring.
Vaugen turned to Groathit as if expecting a translation of Logan's statement. Gradually, he turned back to face the young man and his companions.
Pure, undiluted fear ran through Logan's veins as he looked to his friends for aid. A ferocious frown was drawn upon Thromar's brow as he glared at the twenty-five soldiers, his sword eager to spill their blood and longing to taste Vaugen's flesh. Moknay still held his daggers, and his grey eyes blazed an unspoken command when Logan glanced at him. Ignoring the sensation of misplacement, Logan swung around to see Vaugen gazing at him expectantly, but Groathit's eye was fueled by impatience.
'Well?' the spellcaster snapped. 'Where is it? Hand it over, whelp!'
'Kiss my ass!' Logan hollered, brutally jerking back on his horse's reins as he withdrew his Reakthi sword.
Two daggers flashed from Moknay's hands, and the men on either side of Vaugen went down. Emitting a lustful war cry, Thromar charged Smeea directly into a band of warriors, his massive sword catching the light as it sliced through flesh, veins, and internal organs.
'This way!' the huge fighter roared. 'Head back!'
'Stop them!' demanded Vaugen.
Several moments of chaos followed. Horses screamed and reared, swords slid free of their Reakthi sheaths, and blood released its coppery smell into the air. Two Reakthi crashed to the ground, knocked from their horses by Thromar's insane charge. Munuc let out a fearful shriek and vanished into the trees. Logan, his horse turned, lashed out blindly with his blade, drawing a bloody gash across a soldier's face.
'They are converging on us!' he heard Druid Launce cry. 'We shall surely be cut down!'
Silver glared in the sunlight, and Logan threw up his sword to ward the blow aside. Metal clanged, and hooves rent the air behind him as Logan frantically turned about in his crude saddle. He was just barely able to dodge the flail that whistled above his head, and his own weapon shot out, catching the Reakthi under the chin and skewering his jaw. Droplets of crimson spattered the young man's hands as he whipped around again, trying to spot his companions in the swelling tide of chestplates and weapons.
'Moknay!' Logan heard Thromar warn. 'Watch your back!'
There was a gurgling scream somewhere from within the hubbub, and Logan hoped it was not Moknay. White hot pain blazed upon his left arm, and Logan jerked about, stunned by the sight of his own blood bubbling up from between torn flesh. Instantly, the pain transformed to anger, and Logan grasped his sword in both hands. With a furious sweep of his blade, Logan dismembered the Reakthi to his left, sneering in satisfaction as the sword arm dropped to the dirt in a shower of blood.
'An opening!' Druid Launce exclaimed, smacking his heavy staff against a Reakthi's skull.
Cursing under his breath, Logan attempted to bring his horse around as he saw the young druid bolt free of the swarming Reakthi. The pain in his arm and the feeling of wrongness in his ears gave Logan the strength necessary to cut a gruesome path toward the druid. Shouting joyfully, Thromar and Smeea rammed through the chestplated warriors, also finding the safety of the forest. Logan was close enough to take advantage of the hole made by the fighter and dashed through the clustering soldiers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Moknay beside him, his grey clothing spotted with Reakthi blood.
'Stop them!' Groathit screeched, the veins on his neck popping out. 'Stop them or I shall have your heads to decorate my walls!'
Vaugen gave the wizard a malicious glare. 'I am the Imperator, not you. Why aren't you earning your rank, spellcaster?'
The magician snarled furiously to himself, kicking at his horse's flanks as he followed the fleeing quartet. Reakthi rode on either side and before the wizard, their weapons flailing and curses flying at their prey. Gesticulating wildly, Groathit could hear Vaugen's horse thundering behind him, the Imperator yelling orders at his men.
Ebony sparks crackled at the spellcaster's fingertips, and a ghastly smile drew across his face as he spied Logan and Moknay through the trees. Death-black rays screamed from his hands, sizzling the air as they howled for the two.
Nausea gripped Logan and bile rose in his throat as the feeling of displacement became overwhelming. The buzz increased a thousandfold, and the young man clamped his hands to either side of his head. This could not be the normal buzz of wrongness, he decided. The only other time he had felt this badly was back when Groathit had
