and sliding down angling hillsides. Gently, he rubbed at his sore ankles, and weariness pounced upon him like a vicious predator. You need to rest, the fatigue whispered. Find your bearings, head west, then spot the town. All that needed to be done in the morning, so sleep.
The exhaustion's logic agreed with Logan's, and his eyelids closed: He was soon asleep.
'You should not be here.'
The voice arose from the eddying tidepools of red and silver light, piercing the stillness with its echoing, authoritative tone.
'You hold sway to the entire multiverse. You are an Outsider. You should not be here.'
Matthew Logan's eyes flickered open, staring at the spiraling vortex of blood and metal that drenched the Hills with its blinding glare. A familiar sensation of wrongness swelled up around and within him, and a manlike shape composed of complete blackness stepped toward him.
'I am a Being of the Megacosmos-you are an infectious microorganism to this world. You do not belong here. You are intruding. You upset the natural Balance of things and cause much havoc to be spread throughout the Macrocosm. Even the land senses your difference. Can you not hear its damnations?'
The reverberating, powerful voice of the Blackbody gradually faded into the vacuum of lights and colors, and a wheezing chorus of whispering voices replaced it. The sense of mismatchment expanded, rippling as the whispers grew louder, and Logan could tell the chorus belonged to the feeling itself.
Get out. Outsider. Get out. Outsider. Get out. Outsider. Get out.
The sensation became overpowering, knocking Logan to his knees as it tried to pry apart his skull. The damning whispers slowly receded, but the wrongness inside him remained. Helplessly, the young man looked up into the red-and-silver illumination and saw hazy forms encircling him. Only their faces were detailed-all else was out of focus. They were his friends, people he had known in Sparrill and on Earth; they were his foes, from Sparrill and Earth alike. All gazed down at him, unaccepting scowls drawn across their faces.
'Get out, Outsider,' Moknay snarled.
'You should not be here,' spat Cyrene.
'You do not belong,' his parents condemned.
'Parasite,' Groathit cursed.
'Murdering stranger,' Druid Launce accused.
'You are not one of us,' Priestess Mara charged.
'Defiler of the land,' growled Thromar.
'Intruder,' his coworkers sneered.
From face to face the unfriendly scowl was the same. All of these people told the truth! Logan cried to himself. He was an Outsider; he was a stranger! But they had no right to blame him! No right! Was it his fault every way he tried to get home loused things up even more? He was different here, he knew that-why was that such a crime?
'You are capable of causing the destruction of the entire Macrocosm if you stay,' the Blackbody answered his unspoken question. 'You also cause great unrest in the natural Balance of things.'
The feeling of disharmony gained more power, its agonizing buzz drilling into Logan's brain. The whispering chorus returned and the hazy forms chanted along. Teeth clenched as if to battle the pain, Logan clamped his hands over his ears in a feeble attempt to block out the words. But the chanting was inside him as well, and he could not force the voices out. Screaming, the young man shut his eyes and curled into a fetal position. Chants and buzz strengthened until Logan's skull felt as if it would explode…
Sunlight seeped into the Hills as Logan's eyes popped open. Stupid dreams, he grumbled. Stupid red-and- silver dreams! Just what the hell was that one supposed to prove? Oh, well, I've got other things to do than sit around and interpret dreams.
Logan got up from his rocky bed, stretching, and scanned the quiet hillsides. The dirt and stones were lit by the yellow rays of the sun, and the cool mountain air seemed to restore Logan's strength. There was something astonishing about the very air of Sparrill, the young man noted. It seemed to perk him up-return strength he would have thought lost forever. The past week had consisted of three days of harsh horseback riding, one day of escaping earthquakes, and one day of capture. Not to mention his night with Cyrene and his previous night running. Not only that, he hadn't eaten since his capture; and yet, the air of Sparrill lifted him-gave him the strength he needed to go on. Maybe it didn't affect just him either, he mused. Most of the people he had seen had been in pretty good shape. Something in the air enhanced people's health, he guessed, and his was included.
Get out.
Logan froze. Streams of sunlight cascaded into the Hills, blazing down upon him like a spotlight as the whispering dissipated. A familiar buzz boiled upward from the earth, sinking into Logan with the sensation of misplacement. Bewildered, the young man leaned against Launce's staff, eyes wide as he searched for the astral choir.
Outsider, you do not belong. Get out.
His dream! Logan recalled. The sensation in his dream had spoken, and now, it truly had found its voice! The feeling of disharmony itself was communicating with the young man! Jesus Christ! That was even worse than before!
Intruder, the disunity said.
'Shut up!' roared Logan, wheeling around in an attempt to find the speaker. 'I am not intruding! This is your fault!'
The rasping chorus did not reply, and, somehow, Logan knew he was right. The very feeling that disturbed him so much had had a hand in his transportation from Earth to Sparrill. At first Logan had assumed the sensation to be an exaggerated version of unfamiliarity-like the feeling one gets going to someplace new and different-but it was more. It was the very essence of the land, that aspect that made the enhanced health possible, the law that made women infertile until marriage. Somehow, this god-awful sensation tied in with all that, and, while continually accusing Logan of intruding, it had been a major cause in bringing him here. But why? And just what was so damn important that interested Vaugen so much?
Gathering the Jewel under one arm, Logan started westward, ideas running through his mind. Why was he so important to Vaugen? Because he came from Earth? Possibly… he had been addressed as 'man from another world' by two of Vaugen's men. But why was a 'man from another world' so damn important that he had to be taken alive? Did it somehow have to do with his being different? Perhaps. No one else Logan had met had been plagued by the infernal buzz that, even now, remained hovering about him. But just how did being different make him important? It hindered him more than helped him. A few times the sensation had gotten so bad Logan had almost passed out-Shit! When the Blackbody had attacked, Logan had almost been knocked clear out of his saddle! If Vaugen wanted to be different, let him! Logan was getting downright sick and tired of Sparrill and of being different!
Then leave, the disagreement demanded.
I am trying to leave! Logan shot back, grimacing as the buzz increased. Why don't you leave me alone? Look, I helped you with the zombies.
The whispering chorus of voices had no reply, but the infernal hum strengthened. If only it was a bug, wished Logan. I'd squash that sucker flat! Unfortunately, the ever-present feeling was not physical and could not be stamped out. Grumbling, Logan continued his trek through the Hills, turning, once again, to the mystery of his importance.
It can't be my knowledge of weapons, he thought. I mean, I know what they look like and how to use a lot of them, but I can't make them. Christ, if Vaugen wants someone to engineer him a catapult, he's chasing after the wrong guy! Boy, wouldn't that just be great if that's what he wants? As soon as he foUnd out I don't know beans about building things, he'd wipe me out! Or maybe he wants to go to Earth? Naw, that's a comic-book plot. The bad guy wants to conquer all known dimensions! I don't think Vaugen wants to rule Santa Monica-if he does, he'll have another disappointment.
Like a swarm of bees, the sensation of mismatchment converged on Logan, momentarily deafening the young man with its obnoxious buzzing. Logan snarled at the feeling. Ever since it had aided him in destroying Farkarrez, the feeling had gotten nastier. The young man sneered: That's gratitude!
