over?'
Moknay glared at the wizard, wiping muck from his hair. 'Looks that way,' he responded.
'Oh.' The spellcaster glanced back down at Pembroke. 'You! Why are you lying there? Quickly, quickly! Get out! Get up! We have so little to do and so much time to do it in!'
The lean servant pulled himself out of the mire, his black eyes trained on the mad sorcerer. 'Pembroke, he is. How is it you know of Pembroke?'
'Forgetful,' stated Zackaron. 'I am Zackaron. I am Master. I shall be Master. I am forevermore Master. I is Master. Agggh! Deformity! Freak! Outcast! Unclean! Make haste! Make haste! We must away!'
The drenched Pembroke shook himself like a dog and sent mud and water flying. 'But Child,' he argued. 'Pembroke cannot leave his Child.'
'Child, you want?' Zackaron replied. 'I shall build you one from clay.'
As Zackaron lifted his arms, Pembroke's ebony eyes locked on Moknay. 'Pembroke shall have his Child,' he hissed.
There was an implosion of air and spellcaster and his servant were gone.
The rain became a drizzle.
Moknay scrabbled to his feet and glared at the force of Reakthi still confronting them. Dripping muck, Groathit raised himself from the slush, his good eye flickering with fury. There was a plop of disturbed mud and Vaugen leaped off his horse.
'Unfortunately,' the Imperator smirked, 'you won't be rid of us quite so easily. You're a sensible man, Murderer. Give us Matthew Logan and the Jewel and we may spare you.'
'Spare me your lies!' Moknay snapped, reaching for a dagger with slick fingers.
'Come, come,' Vaugen answered, 'you're in no condition to fight. You have a wounded shoulder, and I'm sure your friends wouldn't want to see you hurt more.'
Thromar unsheathed his sword, teeth clenched. 'Keep back, Imperator,' he rumbled, 'or I shall do to you what I did to Agasilaus!'
Groathit hovered behind Vaugen's shoulder like a mud-splattered shadow. 'You frighten us,' he mocked.
Voicing a war cry, Thromar charged through the mud. Bowstrings drew back and fixed on the huge fighter. Clumsily, Thromar slid to a stop, eyeing the archers from atop their mounts.
The winds died to a breeze.
'Matthew Logan,' Vaugen jeeringly called to the young man. 'Your friends are to be fodder for the carrion crows unless you have something to say about it. Are you willing to work for us? A simple 'yes' will save your friends' lives.'
Silently, Logan raised his head and stared without seeing. Loss upon loss had piled up upon the young man, and he was overwrought with grief. Launce, Cyrene, the Smythe-all of them were dead.
His surest chance of going home was just as dead.
'Well?' the Imperator demanded.
'He'll kill us anyway!' Moknay warned.
Groathit's hand flamed orange. 'Silence!'
Logan blinked away some of the sorrow and focused on Vaugen and his band of Reakthi. They were threatening the lives of his two friends, he realized. They were threatening to kill Thromar and Moknay!
The familiar rage began to swell in Logan's breast as he fixed his eyes on Vaugen.
The archers drew their arrows back even further.
'We're waiting,' Vaugen mocked.
An unexpected ruckus exploded behind the Imperator, and half his troop pitched over the side of the cliff. The arrows and bows dropped from the archers' hands as they twirled to see the line of men behind them spill to the soggy ground. One archer careened over the mountainside; another's horse was bodily lifted into the air. In shock, Vaugen jumped away from his troop as they were mercilessly struck down by some unseen foe.
A blue face suddenly surfaced among the mounted warriors.
'Fooooooood!' the ogre bellowed, batting Reakthi away with each swing of his brawny light blue arms.
Just as surprised as Vaugen, Moknay and Thromar cast bewildered looks at Logan, but the young man was not looking at them. His eyes were locked on the black-chestplated Imperator, and the wrath that churned within his pupils was incredible!
Under Logan's direct command, a meteoric fireball exploded from the Jewel and caught Vaugen full in the chest. Battered by the destructive blow, the Imperator jerked like a marionette caught in a windstorm. He slammed into the side of the mountain, his flesh ablaze with Cosmic fire. The last of his men went spinning down the hillside as the light blue ogre halted in the mud, its crooked grin proudly stretched across its face.
Groathit gaped at Logan. Magic! the spellcaster realized. The whelp had purposely reached into the Jewel and had torn free a portion of magic! Beforehand he had only directed the Jewel's discharge, but now he had actually delved into the gem itself and had extracted its magicks!
The wizard turned as Vaugen peeled himself from the mountainside and lurched in his direction. The Imperator's flesh was charred and melted, and wisps of smoke snaked from his burned scalp as he groped for support.
'Groathit,' he rasped through seared lungs. 'Go.'
The gnarled spellcaster whirled on Logan. 'The Smythe is dead,' he said with a sneer, 'and I shall see that you do not take his place! And this time, Vaugen shall not stop me!'
A tongue of flame shot into the drizzling rain and engulfed both spellcaster and Imperator. When it fluttered out of existence, the two were gone.
The rage and sorrow slowly released its hold upon Logan, and he was surrounded by his friends when he looked up.
'Remember what I told you about too much of that blather?' Moknay joked. He glanced over his wounded shoulder at the ogre towering behind him. 'I take it this fellow is a friend of yours?'
The ogre grinned. 'Friennnnnnnnd!'
Logan placed the last stone on Cyrene's grave and turned to the trio gathered on the path. The slight drizzle of rain had ceased, and early morning light was filling the sky from the east. The hillside, however, was marred with burn marks, and countless prints churned the muddy soil of the ground.
Cleaning any lingering sludge from his sweat suit, Logan headed for his horse. As he lifted the Jewel from the ground, Thromar asked: 'What are we going to do with that thing?'
Logan shrugged.
'Give it to Barthol,' Moknay suggested. 'He'd be so scared of it he'd always remember to keep it in check.'
'Would it be safe?' Logan queried.
'Leave your friend here to help guard it,' the Murderer advised, pointing at the ogre.
Thromar finished removing his soiled Guard's uniform and chucked it over the cliff. 'What about you, friend- Logan?' he wondered. 'What are you going to do?'
Logan placed the Jewel in his saddlebag and mounted his horse. 'I don't know,' he admitted sullenly. 'The Smythe said something about other ways home. Maybe I can find one of those.'
Moknay jumped into his horse's saddle and winced at his injury. 'Well, then I guess it's up to Thromar and I to help you,' he declared.
Logan threw the Murderer a quizzical glance, but Moknay's smile told him he was sincere.
The ogre gave all three men a puzzled stare as they started their horses forward, but it eagerly trailed them.
Thromar's yellow teeth shone through his beard. 'I've got an idea,' he said.
'Holy Agellic!' Moknay exclaimed in mock awe. 'Will miracles never cease?'
'Jest if you want, Murderer,' Thromar remarked, 'but the Smythe said something about Sparrill herself causing friend-Logan's arrival-so she can just as well send him back.'
'How?' Moknay and Logan both inquired.
The question was even on the ogre's face.
'The very Heart of the Land,' explained the fighter. 'The Bloodstone guarded by the Sprites.'
