swift and deadly that he needed a minute to catch up on what had happened. Moknay, he noticed, had only been struck by one of the arrows, but it protruded painfully from his left shoulder; streams of blood were trickling down his chest. Their horses had disappeared, and it took Logan a second before he guessed Thromar and Cyrene had escorted them to safety. Behind him he could hear the Reakthi in pursuit, and he feared another arrow may permanently end Moknay's life. And they were so damn unprotected! There had to be a way to stop the Reakthi!
Logan looked down at the Jewel again but shook his head. First of all, he had no real idea how he had used the powers either time. Secondly, a third usage of the energies could trigger off an almost uncontrollable discharge and really send the Wheel on its way over. The young man had felt such a tremor building the second time he had linked with the gem.
Screaming winds sent raindrops stinging into the young man's face as he clambered free of the back exit. Moknay followed close behind, his face reflecting the pain in his shoulder. Thromar and Cyrene were some distance ahead of them, pulling Moknay's horse onto a ledge that led to a somewhat level path. The heavy rainfall had already plastered their clothing and their hair to their bodies, and the howling gale whipped viciously at their sodden frames. Thromar waved to them as he finished guiding Moknay's stallion up and suddenly jerked a huge finger behind them.
Logan glimpsed over his shoulder to see Vaugen and his men racing after them, also leading horses out of the exitway. Of course they had been riding horses! The young man kicked himself. They must have kept them in the corridor beyond the door.
The ground beneath their feet already sucked and slipped around their shoes while the chestplated soldiers mounted up behind them. Logan and Moknay scrabbled up a muddy incline, muck giving way beneath their weight. Hooves sloshed into the saturated Hills, and Logan feared his death was near at hand. A recognizable 'twang' pierced his ears, and the young man wondered where the Reakthi archer had aimed. There was an abrupt, high- pitched wail as Vaugen's horse crashed to the mud, knocking the black-chestplated Imperator across the soggy earth. Puzzled, Logan looked up the incline to see Thromar nock another arrow into the same bow the young man had first used when he had arrived in Denzil. That same self bow one could find in early English times! It was keeping the chestplated soldiers from reaching their prey!
'Whoops!' Thromar boomed. 'Friend-Logan! Heads down!'
In blind response, Logan pulled his head down and heard an arrow shaft splinter against the stone above his skull. Labored breathing sounded through the downpour, and Logan saw Moknay straining to keep his grip as more blood stained his clothing.
'Cyrene!' the young man barked the order. 'Help Moknay up!'
The soaked blonde failed to hear the young man, her deep blue eyes set on the scarred Imperator below her.
'Cyrene!' Logan shouted again.
The blonde glanced down at him.
'Help Moknay up!' he ordered once more.
Somewhat reluctantly, the girl obeyed as Logan heaved himself onto the ledge and rolled to his feet. A sorcerous shaft of energy burst close to his head, dazzling him with its brilliance, but Vaugen's voice brought the young man out of his daze.
'Groathit!' the Imperator thundered. 'Not Logan! We can still use him!'
I'd sooner die than work for you, you heartless bastard! the young man fumed. Vaugen had been the sole cause of Launce's death and the Smythe's death. And by that second act he had destroyed Logan's surest way home.
Moknay stifled a cry as Thromar hastily jerked the arrow free of the Murderer's shoulder. 'Sorry about that,' the fighter apologized, 'but we can't hope for painless bindings at a time like this.'
'I'm not disagreeing,' the Murderer said, swiftly covering the wound with a strip of cloth.
'Do we ride?' Logan queried.
'Treacherous but necessary,' Thromar answered, leaping astride Smeea.
Logan kept the Jewel cradled in one arm as he clambered into his mount's rain-drenched saddle and looked back. Thromar and Moknay readied themselves beside him, but Cyrene was still glaring in Vaugen's direction.
'Cyrene!' the young man screamed. 'Goddamn it! Get up here!'
Once again the blonde was reluctant to tear her gaze away from Vaugen, but she finally obeyed Logan's frenzied shout and mounted up behind him. The rainfall increased and lightning split the black sky. Mud and water splashed under the hooves of the three brightly colored horses as they forged their way through the downpour and sludge. The splattering hoofbeats of pursuit forced their way through the noise of the rain, and Logan gave a quick glance over his shoulder. Beyond Cyrene's own dripping face, the young man could see only a wind-beaten wall of raindrops.
'Pull up! Pull up!' Moknay's cry shattered Logan's thoughts. 'We're coming to a turn! Don't let your horse slip!'
Immediately, Logan responded, slowing his mount down as the horses came to the curve. In normal weather the slight bank would have required little slowing, but in the muddy, unpredictable torrent of rain the mounts had to slow down or else pitch over the side.
'Brolark!' Thromar cursed. 'How in the name of Harmeer's War Axe can they see us, let alone trail us? I can hardly see the twists in the Hills!'
Moknay gave the landscape behind them a useless glance. 'I'm afraid Logan's carrying a rather obvious piece of cargo,' he stated. 'More than once that Jewel's acted like a beacon.'
While the trio of horses galloped on, Logan shifted the Jewel to his center, trying to shield its glare with his body. The gem was still warm, but no longer painful to the touch; however, its constant flame refused to be blotted out by Logan's frame.
'Kill them, Matthew,' Cyrene hissed in his ear. 'Blast Vaugen and his troop to Gangrorz's Tomb!'
'How the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?' the young man shouted back.
'The Jewel,' the drenched blonde replied. 'You did it before. Kill them.'
Violently, Logan shook his head. 'Too dangerous,' he explained. 'Even if I knew how I wouldn't do it.'
'Not even for me?' she cooed sweetly.
Logan clenched his teeth. 'No! It's too dangerous!'
The amorousness drained out of Cyrene's voice. 'You bastard,' she spat. 'After what I let you do?'
Emotional pain struck Logan to the very center of his being. She hadn't meant anything she had implied? he contemplated. It had all been an elaborate game? She had, after all this time, only been using him? Using him as a tool to vent her anger on Vaugen? After he had finally given his trust and affection to her, she was just using him, like the golden-haired Riva had attempted to do?
It suddenly all became clear to the young man. Cyrene's dislike of Moknay and Thromar, her fear of Zackaron and the Blackbody, her heartless indifference toward Logan's escapes, and her supposed love for the young man. All had only been concerned with her revenge. Moknay, Thromar, Zackaron, and the Blackbody all could have kept the young man from her, and, of course she wouldn't compliment his escapes: she didn't feel the pride he had felt. And her love…! It was nothing but her desire to use him… just like Vaugen and Mediyan wanted to. That was the attitude that the Smythe disapproved of so greatly in the girl.
Logan sneered furiously to himself. No wonder! he growled mentally.
'Logan! Logan! In Agellic's name, wake up!'
The blonde behind him let out a scream that pulled the young man from his thoughts so that he finally heard Moknay's cries. Another curve sloped before them, and Logan had not reined in his horse. The yellow-and-green mount started to slow itself down, but it struck Smeea with a jolt that knocked the black-and-red horse into the slush. To avoid having his legs crushed, Thromar heaved himself out of the saddle, hit the muddy path, and slid clear off the edge.
'Dung!' the fighter swore as he disappeared over the cliff.
Half-running, half-staggering, Moknay dismounted and charged through the muck to the ledge. In shock and horror at what he had done, Logan joined the Murderer. Smeea indignantly climbed to her feet, shaking slime and mud from her mane. Cyrene's deep blue eyes remained on the men as she dismounted; then she turned and faced the sheets of rain behind them.
