not been the only thing moving from that grassy knoll.
Logan was daydreaming of Cyrene when the dead Reakthi attacked.
The Guardsmen's horses reared and startled shouts went up from the band of uniformed men. Disbelief filled their eyes as the chestplated corpses advanced, and two men went down before their comrades could even bring themselves to trust their eyesight. Instantly, swords were drawn, but no Reakthi blood stained the ground. Stabbed, impaled, or dismembered, the cadavers continued forward, breaking through the lines of Guards in their steady advance toward Logan. Even decapitated the lifeless Reakthi fought, their one purpose to recapture Matthew Logan. Eldath, his mount surrounded by dead Reakthi, did not even think to turn toward his captive. He and his troop were being attacked by corpses and none of them would fall. Logan was the very last thing on his mind.
A snort pulled Logan free of his initial surprise and he turned to find his horse at his elbow. Throughout the confusing tide of Reakthi and Guardsmen, the young man saw the bearded face of Aelkyne before he was swept up in the battle.
The white flare of hope roared to life in Logan's breast, and he leapt astride his stallion. Hooves beat the hard-packed earth as the yellow-and-green mount galloped free of the battle. Mindlessly, the Reakthi corpses tried to follow, but the squad of Guards blocked their path. Swords and axes clanged, and blades cleaved into dead flesh, yet the chestplated dead kept struggling. Concerned only with the animated cadavers, Eldath urged his men onward.
Logan escaped in the chaos.
The black clouds became friendly, protecting Logan from eyes hidden in the heavens, and the almost identical hillsides also grew amicable, hiding Logan from his captors. The blazing white spark within him strengthened, swelling the young man with good fortune. Twice he had been captured; twice he had escaped-both times with Jewel intact. Abruptly, the friendliness of the Hills increased, and the abnormal breeze touched him from its subterfuge in the west. Acting on instinct, Logan directed his mount that way, trailing the wind of unbalance deeper into the mountain range.
The Guards and Reakthi were some two miles behind him when Logan finally brought his horse to a stop. Perched atop a ledge, the young man peered out toward the south. Hills stretched before him, but that odd, unnatural feeling was somewhere close by. Curiously, Logan looked east, then west. Each time he was greeted by more hills. To the north, however, the bizarre unbalance crouched among the hills, and Logan suddenly saw the cavern hidden in the crook of a mountain.
'Smell anything?' he asked his horse as he directed it toward the cave.
The green-and-yellow horse hesitated a moment, sensed no danger, then halted again. Quizzically, it cocked its head to one side, and Logan thought perhaps it too had sensed the strange, abnormal wind blowing from within.
'You think there's anything in there?' he questioned his mount.
As if in response, the stallion snorted and shook its green mane. Slowly, Logan urged the horse in, and an unearthly green light illuminated the cavern walls. Like the corridor of a house, the stone widened out to reveal a tall figure leaning over a glimmering orb of color. Dark brown hair streaked with grey crowned the head, and a trim beard and mustache decorated the lean face. Wild, dark brown eyes flicked up from the glowing ball and fixed on Logan. A strange smile spread across the face.
'You've come back?' the tall figure inquired. 'I didn't think you'd find me. Isn't that right? Oh, no? Perhaps not. Then again… Sit! Sit! Make my home comfortable.'
Logan blinked in confusion, his blue eyes transfixed on the robed form facing him. The rocky chamber was filled with miscellaneous devices, and the ever-present buzz increased as Logan scanned the room. A sudden thought exploded into his mind and he turned on the lean figure.
'Are you the Smythe?' he questioned.
A lean but strong hand stroked the trim beard. 'Hmmmmm? The Smythe? Oh, me? Why, yes. I suppose so! You are who?'
'I'm Matthew Logan,' the young man returned, smiling as he dismounted. 'Jesus Christ, I never thought I'd find you!'
'Jesus Christ, yes!' the gaunt spellcaster echoed. 'Find me you have! Or did I find you?' He paused a moment as if to puzzle out the question; then, curtly, he turned back to Logan. 'Did you come here to give me more girls? If you did, I really don't need them. I'd much rather want clay. Clay, you know? Have you ever built with clay?'
Logan threw his horse a questioning look, but his mount's green eyes gave no indication of danger. Shrugging, the young man withdrew the gleaming Jewel and handed it to the eccentric wizard.
'Actually,' Logan said, 'I came to give you this.'
The Smythe inspected the massive gem closely, his dark eyes flashing. 'This? This?' he quipped. 'What's this, then? An egg?'
'It's the Jewel of Equilibrant,' explained Logan.
'No, it's an egg,' the Smythe insisted. 'A giant Cosmic egg that will hatch and give birth to a whole universe.'
'You mean it's capable of doing that?' the young man exclaimed, hoping he had interpreted the wizard's allegory correctly.
The gaunt Smythe began to flap his arms about in birdlike fashion. 'It must have come from the huge Star Gull, a bird that nests in the suns themselves.' An odd expression suddenly screwed up the spellcaster's face. 'No, no, that's not right. This is the Jewel! That's it! The Jewel? Oh, the powers inside this egg-Jewel! No! It's a woman's breast! Yes! Feel how smooth it is, how round and firm. But she has no nipple! Yaaaaagh! Deformity! Freak! Outcast! Unclean!'
Spellcasters were strange, Logan decided, eyeing the Smythe with uncertainity. No wonder the man liked to hide in the Hills-he reminded Logan of men like Salvador Dali on his own world.
'It seems to be leaking energy,' Logan went on. 'My friends suggested I bring it to you.'
The gaunt Smythe stopped his wild prancing and screaming and glared at the young man. 'Leaking?' he repeated. 'Leaking? Oh, yes, this is very serious. Very serious indeed. What makes you do that?'
'Excuse me?'
'What makes you dance around in circles while you have intercourse with the moons?' the magician queried.
What the hell did he mean by that? Logan thought, trying to decipher the spellcaster's odd choice of words. Oh, wait a minute! Replace 'dancing in circles' with 'being lost,' and 'intercourse with the moons' with 'fucking things up,' and the phrase made a little bit more sense.
'I'm not a spellcaster,' Logan answered. 'I can't stop it from leaking.'
'I see,' nodded the lean wizard. 'I see. I am seeing. I shall see. I saw. I have seen. I had saw. Look out! Deformity! Freak! Outcast! Unclean!' He paused a moment, squinting at Logan. 'What do you want?' he suddenly demanded.
Looks like you can't hide anything from this guy, Logan noted. 'I want to go back to my world.'
The sorcerer's eyes flared. 'You have a world? So have I. What is yours?'
'Earth,' declared Logan. 'I want to go back to Earth.'
'My world is Grobolobo. Your world is Earth. Our world is GroboloboEarth.'
'Do you think you can send me back?'
The Smythe stroked his beard. 'Did you create your world?'
'Huh?' Logan wondered. 'I'm sorry, but…'
'I created mine. Do you know where Grobolobo is? It's under that rock, and death comes every nightfall.' The wizard abruptly shook his head violently, as if clearing the cobwebs from his brain. 'Sorry, sorry. Check Jewel; send back. Yes, I have it. You must understand, I find it quite difficult to grow Bloodpetals.' He handed the golden Jewel back to Logan. 'Do you comprehend?'
The young man ran a hand through his hair, trying to formulate an answer. Unexpectedly, the spellcaster wheeled on the shimmering orb behind him. 'Girl!' he yelled. 'A girl is without!' He ran his hands lovingly over the orb. 'Ooooooh, soft! So soft. But no nipple! Yaaaaaaagh! Deformity! Freak! Outcast! Unclean!'
'Girl?' echoed Logan. 'There's a girl outside?'
The hope still ablaze inside him, Logan scrambled out of the cavern. Rounding a corner, glinting silver almost
