Farkarrez into believing, but what in the world could have mutated people into the crawling monsters that shrieked beneath him?
Logan paled and almost swooned as the realization struck him. Zackaron had not been mindlessly rambling when he had mentioned his creations. The things scrabbling and clawing their way toward Logan were Zackaron's. These were the wizard's deformities, his freaks and outcasts. And now they had come out of hiding in the hopes of attaining the Jewel.
Blue-white lightning ripped through the clouds, bathing the Hills with its electrical glare. The man-things cowered in the bluish flash but then their greed returned, and their twisted limbs helped them scrabble higher.
Breathing heavily, Logan reached a small, level cliff and directed Cyrene to run eastward along the narrow ledge. There was a sudden snarl from above him, and Logan toppled. Pain raked the young man's back as he somersaulted down the sloping hill, a hideously large, doglike beast snapping at his neck. Disgust swirled in Logan's belly as he completed his roll halfway down the hill and gripped the muzzle of the monster facing him. It was a hairless dog, he saw, and his stomach heaved in revulsion at the misshapen canine eagerly slobbering for his blood. Fear accompanied that sickness as Logan noted the sudden shock of the attack had knocked his sword out of his hand.
'Cyrene!' he choked, struggling to keep the disfigured snout and teeth away from his neck.
The herd of 'mistakes' climbed nearer, their gibberish ringing in Logan's ears.
The winds picked up as the black clouds roiled and churned like angry waves. Cyrene stopped upon the ledge, glancing back down at the struggling forms. Her skirt billowed about her legs as the moaning gale whipped around her, and quick fingers pulled free the dagger at her thigh. The turbulent air shrieked as the blade rocketed forward and lodged in the dog-thing's neck. Black, putrid blood splattered Logan's face as the monster he battled jerked, a warbling howl tearing through its throat. With a violent heave, Logan sent the quivering monstrosity down the slope, knocking the twitching corpse into the cluster of mispro-portioned beings. Desperately, the young man pulled himself to his feet and resumed his hurried climb up the rocky face. The winds sent dirt spiraling into the darkened sky, and Logan's contacts ached as he struggled to reach the ledge once again. Another quarrel of blue-white lightning split the sky, and thunder shook the mountains. A tremendous voice unexpectedly tore through the clouds, and, so deafened by the noise, Logan was almost sent tumbling down the hillside once more.
'MY JEWEL!' the firmament boomed.
Oh, great, Logan sneered. Zackaron finally recognized the Jewel for what it was!
Helped onto the ledge by Cyrene, Logan noticed the thunderous voice had proven some good. So terrified by their creator's cry, the hideous man-things charged recklessly back down the mountainside and ducked into concealment, forgetting all about Logan and the hope his cargo had ignited.
Nervous that the insane spellcaster may appear, Logan leapt onto his horse and pulled up Cyrene. The ledge they were on was narrow, and possibly weak, yet the enraged cry of Zackaron had even sent waves of terror rushing through Logan's mount.
The yellow-and-green horse swiftly skirted the edge of the mountain path and galloped across the rim. To Logan's right was the dizzying drop that awaited them should the horse falter or stumble; to their left was the mountain wall with its jutting rocks that threatened to extend too far and knock both horse and riders from its face. Fortune, however, no matter how fickle she was, decided to accompany Logan, and the stallion soon reached a wider path that sloped between this mountain and a second one. It was not long before the threat of falling diminished, but the possibility of other earthquake-made drops lingered in Logan's mind.
'What in Agellic's name were those things?' breathed Cyrene, the fear still coating her voice.
'Zackaron's 'mistakes,' ' the young man replied. 'At least my mistakes aren't that bad!' he added, sarcastically. 'I only steal Cosmic Jewels and mistake insane wizards for the Smythe! Some mistakes, huh?'
Cyrene saw nothing funny in Logan's humor and went silent once more. If they aren't Reakthi, Cyrene became somewhat timid in battle, Logan noted. Like Moknay, she showed a certain fear toward magic. She was no warrior-woman-thank God! Macho females were as bad as macho males! Although she did tend to take on such tendencies when their foes were Reakthi, a smile suddenly crossed Logan's lips; she did, he recalled, let me be on top!
No sun dangled in the black, foreboding sky, yet the clouds continued to darken. Logan cursed his glimmering watch when he wondered what time it was but guessed it was nearing late evening. Zackaron's 'mistakes' were some two miles behind perhaps, if not directly, then in a roundabout way, and that made Farkarrez's men and Eldath's troop a good four miles back. Still, Zackaron, Logan worried, was a spellcaster, and he could be anywhere he wanted to be in mere seconds. Hopefully, his insanity would keep him from tracking down the couple and disposing of them.
Skidding down a somewhat treacherous slope, Logan and Cyrene led the yellow-and-green mount to a stone-encircled plateau. Sparse patches of grass sprang up from between broken stones, and two gnarled trees leaned in the strengthening gale. The purple-black clouds overhead roiled eastward, flickering tongues of blue- white electricity crackling within. Pursued by Reakthi, Guards, and Zackaron, Logan still found his eyes straying to Cyrene's flapping dress and billowing dark blonde hair as she stood upon the clearing.
'Where are we?' she questioned, looking out at the darkened Hills.
'Beats me,' Logan replied, wishing he hadn't phrased it in quite such a manner. 'I haven't known where I was since I first entered these stupid Hills! I figure we can rest here, though.'
'Not all night!' the blonde cried.
Logan frowned at her fear. 'Of course all night!' he answered. 'It's too damn dangerous to travel these mountains at night. We're riding a horse, not a…' He fumbled for what Eldath had said. '… bearded peakgoat.'
Disheveled by the wind, Cyrene nodded and sat down. Logan sat across from her as the darkness crept in, almost hiding the young blonde in its black tendrils.
Hooves rent the stillness, and Logan grasped Moknay's dagger protectively. Cyrene's own hand went to her sheath, but her dagger was gone, lodged in the throat of Zackaron's dog. She watched Logan as the resounding hoofbeats grew louder, and dark horses crested the rim of their plateau. A whispered curse escaped Logan's lips as he made out the Guardsmen's uniforms of the pair seated upon their mounts.
Logan readied his dagger. Christ knows how many men are on the other side of the hill! he muttered to himself.
When a dark arm pointed in his direction and at the Jewel's escaping glare, the silver dagger hissed from Logan's hand and sailed through the cloudy night. The young man's heart stopped beating, and Cyrene gasped, as the glinting metal streaked for its target… and was snatched out of mid-air.
'Does this mean you don't want to keep it?' the cloud-ridden night asked.
Logan let out a cheerful whoop. 'Moknay?'
The Murderer leaped off his grey horse and slid down the incline to join the young man. 'Certainly,' he said with a smirk, handing back the dagger. 'I do wish you'd stop trying to return my gift-or at least find another way of doing it.'
The other Guardsmen lost his balance on the slope and slid the rest of the way down on his backside. 'Brolark, that smarts!' Thromar grumbled indignantly.
'How…? What…? When…?' Logan stuttered, futile-ly grasping for words.
Moknay clamped a friendly hand upon Logan's shoulder. 'That's what I always liked about you, friend,' he quipped. 'You come right out and say what you mean.'
The gibe made ease and gratitude stream throughout the young man. 'How in the world did you find us?' he finally sputtered. 'And what are you doing in Guardsmen uniforms?'
'Obviously,' Thromar declared, tugging at the ill-fitting costume, 'you don't know who it was who gave Moknay the name of Murderer, friend-Logan!'
Logan shook his head.
'Mediyan, who else?' Moknay grinned, his teeth glinting in the dim light of the Jewel. 'I've taken out more of his commanders and leaders than Vaugen, old age, and Brolark himself! And what better-way to find you, friend, than by disguising ourselves as Guards and joining in the search? If you haven't learned by now, there's quite a number of troops looking for you.'
'I've learned,' the young man retorted, 'but how did you get those uniforms?'
