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 continued 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.'
Logan shook his head and could tell the same weariness the Murderer felt was leaking into his own muscles. 'But it does detect,' he argued. 'That was how I knew Druid Launce's staff still worked.'
But why, his mind wondered, was the ogre afraid of it? The detecting and dispelling of magic should not have harmed the beast, so why did it shy away? Unless… the talisman did more…
Pondering, Logan felt himself lifted off the ground by Thromar and Cyrene. He leaned momentarily against the girl until he had his balance, and then took quick steps to his horse. Sliding into the saddle, Logan thought he saw something skulking through the bushes. Wishing his recovery from the Blackbody's attack would quicken, he fixed his eyes on the forest. He frowned when he saw nothing out of the usual. Either the weariness setting in was playing tricks on him, or something dark had briefly flashed by amongst the trees. For a moment the young man feared Pembroke was there, but his mind soon cast that aside. Pembroke-according to the ogre-was far behind them, and he wouldn't have sat idly by while a Blackbody attacked his 'Child.'
Rubbing his eyes, Logan started his horse after the others, perplexed as to whether or not he had really seen something… And the door to his subconscious reopened, and an asthmatic rasp Logan thought he had been freed from responded:
Learn to decipher dreams from reality, unreality from falsehood, falsehood from truth, or doom shall fall upon your worlds!
There was a slightly cooler breeze blowing in from the north as the sun slowly tinted the sky a bloody red. Cool water soaked through Logan's sneakers as his green-and-yellow stallion cautiously waded across the waters of the Ohmmarrious. The young man was having a difficult time holding the reins and all the contents of his saddlebags as well so the water would not ruin them. Thromar was also having a troublesome journey with all his extra weaponry dangling from Smeea's sides. Cyrene, having gotten over the scare of the night before and the Blackbody, had riverted to her usual cold self, even ignoring the rushing liquid when it splashed across sections of her skirt and turned the material all but transparent. And it wasn't helping Logan any as he fumbled across the river with leather pouches bundled in his arms.
'Centaur chips!' cursed Thromar, almost losing his flail, struggling to keep it in his grasp, and almost causing his arrows to spill out of their quiver. 'Whose stupid idea was it to cross this stretch of vomit without a bridge?'
'Yours,' Moknay answered with a grin, keeping his cape far above the flowing river. 'And it's not vomit. If you want vomit, go cross the Demonry.'
The enormous fighter screwed up his face and stuck out his tongue. 'Imogen, no! I'd sooner wade in Demon- dung than set foot in that cesspool!'
Juggling his provisions, Logan caught their conversation. The Demonry, he recalled, was the river that that Deil thing had created when it had crashed back down from above. Odd, but when Launce had told that story, he had mentioned the Deil being 'ablaze with the cosmic fire of the Air' because it had gone so high. Could that have been a mythological rendition of something reentering the atmosphere? It would be ablaze… not that any human could survive it… but, then again, Logan had no idea just what a Deil was.
The young man flinched as cold water drenched the cuffs of his sweat pants and seeped through to the flesh beneath. Although the current was strong, the waters were sparklingly beautiful. He could almost believe there was a sprite in this river-since it was as gorgeous as the Roana-although, at the time, Logan really didn't have the privilege to drink in that river's beauty… nor could he at the Lephar either. Only here, at the Ohmmarrious, could the young man stop and admire the beauty of the water and the greenery. Yes, it wasn't hard at all to believe there was a sprite in the river.
A snickering portion of Logan's mind kicked in; and that meant Logan-being in the river-was in the sprite!
Cruelty! The young man moaned silently, wincing and accidentally glancing at Cyrene.
The clinging skirt spattered with crystal-clear water was even more torturous than Logan's imagination, and he forced himself to look away. His sudden movement was enough to unseat him from his horse and send him splashing into the river.
Uncertain of what had happened, Logan pried his eyes open to find himself in another world. Light blue surrounded him, and silver and white stones lined the river's bottom at his feet. He could see the horses' hooves as they proceeded across the river, and he had luckily thrown his arms up and had kept his supplies out of the liquid. The clear waters of the Ohmmarrious flowed into his eye sockets, and, only for a second, the young man was afraid of losing his contacts to the river. However, as the clear waters of Sparrill had done before, the Ohmmarrious delicately washed and cleansed his lenses far better than any enzymatic cleaner had ever done back on Earth!
As Logan started to lift his head from the clear waters, a faint giggling reached his ears. Quizzically, the young man glanced through the liquid as his head broke the surface. Another giggle came to him, and he swiveled toward Cyrene who was smiling down at him from atop her horse. Like the waters of the Ohmmarrious, confusion washed over the young man as he realized Cyrene's giggle was lower in pitch than the one he had heard below the surface. Had the waters somehow heightened her pitch in some way? Or had he heard two separate giggles?
'I wish Thromar were as apt to bathe as you, friend,' Moknay jested. 'Agellic knows he reeks like a stable!'
'I am a man of strength, Murderer!' replied the fighter. 'Strong of muscle, strong of mind, and strong of odor!' He grinned with yellowing teeth.
As Moknay's horse leapt out onto the western bank, Cyrene slid off her mount and splashed back into deeper waters, offering a hand to Logan. 'Here,' she said, 'give me your stuff before you catch your death.'
Without thinking, the young man handed over the pouches he held and began to drag himself from the river. Abruptly his paranoia erupted, yowling at the stupidity of the young man. He had just handed the Jewel of Equilibrant over to someone he had not fully come to trust! How could he be so foolish?
