normally; there were no fountains there. Oh, well, it had been a nice dream while it had lasted.
As the young man went to place his head back down, a faint female voice echoed in his ears: Matthew! Your horse! See to your horse! Salena warned.
Shocked into wakefulness, Logan jerked himself up. There was a sudden snort behind him, and the young man whipped around. Hooves thundered as a dark figure snapped Logan's green-and-yellow stallion about and galloped into the dark forest.
'Hey!' Logan yelled angrily. 'That's my horse!' He kicked at Moknay and Thromar. 'Get up!' he ordered. 'Some bastard just stole my horse!'
His voice died down as he realized with mounting terror that, before he had gone to sleep, he had replaced all his provisions within the leather saddlebags. All his provisions… including the Jewel itself!
•9• Quake
Glittering like daggers in the moonlight, Moknay's eyes swung away from the forest and trained on Logan. 'There's something I forgot to tell you about the people of this world, friend,' the Murderer stated. 'They may be loyal to their land-but they're thieving little buggers!'
Frantically, Logan jerked his head about. 'What are we going to do?' he shouted. 'He took the Jewel!'
'Follow him,' Thromar explained and leaped astride Smeea.
'You'll have to ride with Cyrene,' Moknay told him, mounting up. 'My horse is still a little shaky from that Blackbody attack.'
The young man hardly heard the excuse, impatiently waiting for Cyrene to climb onto her horse. Somebody had just made off with Logan's transportation and his problem. A small part of him wanted to say, 'Let him go; let him deal with the Jewel,' but Logan knew that wasn't right. It was his fault, no matter which way he looked at it, that he had taken the Jewel from Pembroke, and he couldn't let this world be destroyed because of it. If not for the people who had befriended him, then for himself. Who was to say he'd make it to the Smythe before the thief allowed the Jewel to blow? No, Logan had to get that blasted gem back and do his best to make up for the wrong he had caused. Then if it blew while he still had it, he couldn't blame himself for at least not trying.
The horses didn't seem to move fast enough for Logan as they thundered through the foliage. Futilely, he tried to pick up the sounds of his stolen horse's hooves, but only the echoing beats of his friends' mounts resounded in his ears. Dark branches and bushes raced past him, and the half-moon peered down at him like some mocking grin at their attempts to overtake the bandit.
Moknay held up an arm and the three horses stopped. In silence, the Murderer tried to pick up the hoofbeats ahead of them, but it was useless. Somehow, the robber had outdistanced them already.
'He couldn't be that far,' Moknay grumbled to himself.
Failure fluttered about in Logan's stomach. 'Yes, he could,' he replied. 'That horse is fast.'
'As is Smeea,' Thromar answered, 'but fast horses leave large prints. Unless he had the time to sweep his tracks away, we should be able to see them come morning.'
'Come morning he could be in Frelars,' Moknay frowned.
Cyrene sneered. 'What makes you so sure it's a he?' she wondered.
Moknay sneered back. 'He better hope he's a he because what I'm going to do to him shouldn't be done to a woman! Wouldn't it just be our luck if that idiot bumps the horse right into Pembroke?'
'Could it have been Pembroke?' queried Thromar.
'It isn't Pembroke,' Logan stated. 'I saw someone hiding in the bushes-or at least I thought I did-after we killed the Blackbody. He must have followed us on foot and stolen my horse when he found our camp and all of us asleep.'
'Besides,' added Moknay, 'Pembroke has a certain..,. aura that frightened the animals. I'm sure the horses would have kicked up quite a fuss if he had been lurking nearby anywhere.'
'What about Reakthi?' Cyrene put in.
'Out of the question,' Thromar declared. 'They want friend-Logan as much as they want the Jewel-wouldn't take one without the other.'
Gritting his teeth in frustration, Logan saw the odd stare Cyrene gave him over her shoulder. He ignored the look, turning to Moknay. 'Now what?'
The Murderer stroked his mustache thoughtfully. 'Can't see any tracks until the sun comes up, but we can't let him get that far ahead. All I can suggest is that we split up and search. You said he was heading southwest, so he was either heading for Gelvanimore or Prifrane. Thromar and I will go south, you and Cyrene go west. The Jewel will probably be the first thing he'll try to sell-after all, it does look like it's worth the most. It shouldn't be difficult asking people if they've seen a man with a large, golden gem that keeps the Wheel balanced. Whatever happens, Thromar and I will meet you in Prifrane in a week's time.'
'A week?' Logan echoed. 'Do we have that much time?'
'Who's to say?' said the Murderer with a shrug. 'If we don't, we'll find out. According to Barthol, much more energy has to be released before the Wheel tips on its side; we don't have to worry about that. Finding the Smythe after we recover the Jewel is something to worry about.'
The apprehension and fear of the missing Jewel blinded Logan to the usual unease he felt when splitting up with Moknay and Thromar. Contradicting messages ran from his brain to his eyes: to watch for the thief, and, at the same time, to stare at the diminishing forms of his companions. Abruptly, Cyrene spurred her horse forward, and both commands were lost.
The dark forest blurred past the young man as he clung tightly to Cyrene's waist and her horse.
All sense of time fled, and Logan hardly noticed the sun rise behind him and set directly before him. Two more days of searching passed, frequented by more rests which stimulated Logan's fear even more. Nervously, he paced back and forth, kicking at pebbles and weeds.
Cyrene watched him from where she sat upon a log, sipping some wine. 'Calm down,' she told him. 'Even he has to rest. Sooner or later we'll catch up to him-if he's gone west. If not, your friends will get him.'
Logan ran a hand through his black hair. 'You know,' he snapped at her, 'you're taking this too calmly. That Jewel means the destruction of your world… not mine. Don't you care that someone who doesn't know what he's got is running around not doing anything about it?'
Cyrene shrugged.
Logan's blue eyes narrowed. 'Let's put it this way,' he said. 'Without that Jewel, Vaugen won't be after us with such flair now.'
The girl's eyes blazed at the mention of the Imperator, and she focused on Logan. 'At the pace we've been traveling, he'll never find us anyway,' she retorted. 'If I was really that single-minded, I would never have gone so far or so fast. I practically rode my horse to death carrying you and all.' She stood up and jabbed a finger in Logan's direction. 'I'm here because I want to gain something, just like your other friends-just like you. I want to see Vaugen dead, and you're the best chance I've got of running into him. That's why I'm helping you-so you can help me.'
Logan turned away from the blonde, glaring up angrily at the Hills of Sadroia which loomed above him. In three days time he and Cyrene had reached the southeastern base of the Hills, and, if they had the Jewel, they could have already begun the search for the Smythe. Logan saw there were a lot of mountains, but the southern portion was a region of foothills, easily scaled by someone as healthy and as young as Logan. He used to have fun climbing mountains like those back on Earth-backpacking in national parks or just scuttling up reefs at the beach.
Melancholy set in as Logan reminisced about his previous world. It was, at most times, a rat-hole, but it did have its good points. The recreational devices of California were better suited to Logan's tastes than the Sparrillian equivalent. He'd rather ride a roller coaster than brawl in a tavern or slay a dragon. Slay a dragon? He had hardly seen any really bizarre monsters here-only that grey thing that he had killed outside of Eadarus. The other beasts had been explained to him-like the Blackbody and the Demon.
Softened by his emotions, Logan turned back to Cyrene, momentarily forgetting about the thief. 'What's a chomprat?' he wondered.
