'You are not alone!' Cyrene proclaimed, withdrawing a dagger from a sheath strapped about her thigh.
Her white skirt flapping, the beautiful blonde dove for one of the Reakthi. The soldier attempted to dodge while still retaining his hold upon Logan, and a scrape suddenly appeared across his forearm.
'By all that is unholy!' he cursed. 'The bitch cut me!'
The Reakthi released Logan and grabbed at Cyrene. He caught her around the waist, pinning her arms at her side. Furiously, she tried to ram her dagger into the warrior, but he simply held her off to his right.
'Let go of me, you viper!' the girl yelled.
Logan strained against the four hands keeping him prisoner. 'Let her go,' he fumed.
Reakmor Farkarrez grinned wickedly, glaring at Logan as he approached the girl. 'The bitch means something to you, does she?' He roughly grabbed Cyrene beneath her chin. 'I can see why.'
Cyrene brought up a slim leg, catching the Reakmor in the groin. Farkarrez grunted, stumbling back in pain, tears streaming from his eyes.
'Touch me again and I shall make it permanent!' Cyrene threatened.
The Reakmor glanced up, agony scrawled across his face. 'No one ever harms Farkarrez,' he growled, 'especially some female! I was going to let you live, but I shall enjoy you better dead!'
Farkarrez withdrew a dagger from his boot and pointed it at Cyrene. The blade rested directly between the girl's full breasts, but Cyrene did not flinch. Defiantly, she glared at the Reakmor, all but ignoring the dagger at her bosom.
'Have you ever had someone dig a blade into your chest?' Farkarrez questioned, his face contorted with fury. 'Feel the cold steel as it tears through your flesh? Watch as red blood streams down your pretty, white skin?'
Cyrene did not answer, and Farkarrez struck her across the face. Her head jerked to one side, blonde hair tumbling into her face, but she remained silent. Logan watched the red handprint that developed on Cyrene's cheek, and that familiar fury began to boil and steam, demanding release.
'I should ravage you right here!' the Reakmor growled.
'I'd rather die first!' Cyrene spat back.
Farkarrez slapped her again.
The anger exploded; Logan sprang.
The Reakthi holding the young man stumbled back into one another, unbalanced by the explosive jump. Farkarrez let out a startled shout as Logan sailed into him, hurling the Reakmor into the wooden staircase. Cyrene dug an elbow into the soldier behind her and broke free. Her dagger lashed out and the warrior crashed to the floor, his dying thought concerning the safety that chestplates offered.
Logan's fist smashed into Farkarrez's mouth, guided by his intense wrath. The Reakmor staggered under the onslaught, scrambling for the door. Logan roughly jerked the man back, picking him off the ground and heaving him bodily across the hostel. Adrenaline and rage intermingled, and Logan's sword thrust out, skewering the Reakthi that charged him.
Cyrene, having disposed of the other soldier, rushed the stunned Reakmor.
'Cyrene!' warned Logan. 'Stay back! He still has his dagger!'
The girl ignored the warning, her eyebrows knitted above her dark blue eyes. With a sneer of pleasure, Farkarrez hurled his blade. Expertly, Cyrene ducked to one side, batting away the dagger with her own. Farkarrez's weapon whizzed past Logan's ear and lodged into the wall.
The Reakmor's jaw dropped open in shock. 'What?' he shrieked. 'No one can do that! Not at such close…'
Silver and crimson sparkled as Cyrene swept her dagger across Farkarrez's throat. Red liquid bubbled from the Reakmor's lips as he slumped forward, his hands clutching his neck. Gagging, Farkarrez could only watch as his own blood spilled across the floor. Then his vision blurred, and he died.
Logan brushed at his black hair, his fury watching Cyrene with admiration. The girl turned from cleaning her dagger and focused on the young man. 'He mentioned a jewel,' she noted. 'What jewel?' Logan attempted to smile and failed. 'You know,' he replied uneasily, 'a funny thing happened to me on the way to steal a horse.'
His frivolity dissipated and he realized how very much
Cyrene's hair color resembled Riva's…
'Thromar should be back soon,' Moknay guessed, stroking his chin as he peered out a window of their hostel room. 'We'll be leaving early in the morning and heading southwest. We should reach Prifrane in a week's time; then into the mountains. Hopefully, someone in Prifrane will agree to act as scout through the Hills.'
Logan rubbed his hands together nervously. 'What is taking Thromar so long?' he said. 'I hope he didn't run into any more Reakthi.'
The Murderer shrugged diffidently. 'He said something about going to see his friend Fraviar, the one who makes the ale.' He sneered at no one in particular. 'Still don't see what help he'd be.'
Cyrene gazed up at the two men, replacing the Jewel in its leather pouch. Her deep blue eyes were filled with awe and trepidation, and Logan prayed that was all. 'Shouldn't you keep the Jewel in a safer place?' she wondered. 'I mean, a bag doesn't serve as much protection, does it?'
'Hasn't been taken yet,' Moknay smirked, and Logan hated the word 'yet.'
The door flew open and Thromar entered, a silly grin drawn across his face.
'What are you grinning about, O mighty fat one?' quipped the Murderer.
Thromar belched loudly in Moknay's general direction. 'Been to my friend Fraviar,' he stated.
'Did he give us anything that could help, or just the secret ways of making ale?' the Murderer wondered sarcastically.
Thromar held up three-flasks of fluid. 'He did give us some of his darkest ale, and a little talisman of magical powers. Says it detects magic.' The fighter thrust a huge arm at Logan. 'I think you should be the one to wear it, friend-Logan.'
Logan took the bulb of stone and inspected it. 'It detects magic? How?'
His massive shoulders heaved as Thromar shrugged. 'Fraviar says it tingles or something like that. He never used it-his sister did. She's a wizardess.'
Logan slipped the talisman over his neck and tucked it into his shirt, turning to the window where Moknay continued his vigil. Beyond the glass, the sky was black, and stars twinkled far off in the darkness.
Wood groaned and creaked as Thromar threw himself onto a bed, yawning.
Moknay turned away from the window and scanned the three before him. 'Early in the morning, remember that,' he repeated for Thromar's sake. 'Cyrene, you have a horse?'
The attractive girl nodded, her eyes narrowing as she studied the Murderer.
Moknay ignored her suspicious stare. 'Fine.' He faced Thromar. 'And if you refuse to get up tomorrow morning, Thromar, I'll personally stick you in the rump with a dagger.'
The fighter grinned with yellowing teeth. 'What, and break one of your daggers, Murderer?'
Thin, serpentine wisps of color rose into the air, twisting and spiraling like corkscrews. Infinite starlike points of light glittered in the red-and-silver sky, winking playfully as Matthew Logan surveyed the immediate area. A tiny comet sailed overhead, its tail snaking along behind it. Like a mischievous butterfly, the comet swerved, forcing Logan to duck as it crackled over him and sped off into the red-and-silver universe.
It is beautiful, Logan thought. He was standing in midair within the very center of Being. Pleasant tingles coursed through him as the writhing tongues of color touched him and seeped through him as if he himself were a smokelike strand of hues. And the winking of the stars became seductive, like a million gorgeous females all flirting with the young man at once.
A vile sensation of disharmony disrupted the pleasantness, and Logan cast a fearful glance behind him.
A titanic gyroscope was looming down upon him, its wheel flashing with the hundreds of galaxies revolving within it. Planets and stars began to spin free of the whirling disk, exploding as they tore away from their natural order. A hideous revelation blazed into Logan's mind, and he could tell the tilting gyroscope was going to falter- tip-and everything in it would be destroyed.
Everything.
The young man suddenly saw Moknay, Thromar, Mara, Cyrene, Barthol, and Launce all orbiting inside the
