Glittering like daggers in the moonlight, Moknay's eyes swung away from the forest and trained on Logan. "There's something I forgot to tell you about the people of this world, friend," the Murderer stated. "They may be loyal to their land-but they're thieving little buggers!"
Frantically, Logan jerked his head about. "What are we going to do?" he shouted. "He took the Jewel!"
"Follow him," Thromar explained and leaped astride Smeea.
"You'll have to ride with Cyrene," Moknay told him, mounting up. "My horse is still a little shaky from that Blackbody attack."
The young man hardly heard the excuse, impatiently waiting for Cyrene to climb onto her horse. Somebody had just made off with Logan's transportation and his problem. A small part of him wanted to say, "Let him go; let him deal with the Jewel," but Logan knew that wasn't right. It was his fault, no matter which way he looked at it, that he had taken the Jewel from Pembroke, and he couldn't let this world be destroyed because of it. If not for the people who had befriended him, then for himself. Who was to say he'd make it to the Smythe before the thief allowed the Jewel to blow? No, Logan had to get that blasted gem back and do his best to make up for the wrong he had caused. Then if it blew while he still had it, he couldn't blame himself for at least not trying.
The horses didn't seem to move fast enough for Logan as they thundered through the foliage. Futilely, he tried to pick up the sounds of his stolen horse's hooves, but only the echoing beats of his friends' mounts resounded in his ears. Dark branches and bushes raced past him, and the half-moon peered down at him like some mocking grin at their attempts to overtake the bandit.
Moknay held up an arm and the three horses stopped. In silence, the Murderer tried to pick up the hoofbeats ahead of them, but it was useless. Somehow, the robber had outdistanced them already.
"He couldn't be that far," Moknay grumbled to himself.
Failure fluttered about in Logan's stomach. "Yes, he could," he replied. "That horse is fast."
"As is Smeea," Thromar answered, "but fast horses leave large prints. Unless he had the time to sweep his tracks away, we should be able to see them come morning."
"Come morning he could be in Frelars," Moknay frowned.
Cyrene sneered. "What makes you so sure it's a he?" she wondered.
Moknay sneered back. "He better hope he's a he because what I'm going to do to him shouldn't be done to a woman! Wouldn't it just be our luck if that idiot bumps the horse right into Pembroke?"
"Could it have been Pembroke?" queried Thromar.
"It isn't Pembroke," Logan stated. "I saw someone hiding in the bushes-or at least I thought I did-after we killed the Blackbody. He must have followed us on foot and stolen my horse when he found our camp and all of us asleep."
"Besides," added Moknay, "Pembroke has a certain..,. aura that frightened the animals. I'm sure the horses would have kicked up quite a fuss if he had been lurking nearby anywhere."
"What about Reakthi?" Cyrene put in.
"Out of the question," Thromar declared. "They want friend-Logan as much as they want the Jewel-wouldn't take one without the other."
Gritting his teeth in frustration, Logan saw the odd stare Cyrene gave him over her shoulder. He ignored the look, turning to Moknay. "Now what?"
The Murderer stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "Can't see any tracks until the sun comes up, but we can't let him get that far ahead. All I can suggest is that we split up and search. You said he was heading southwest, so he was either heading for Gelvanimore or Prifrane. Thromar and I will go south, you and Cyrene go west. The Jewel will probably be the first thing he'll try to sell-after all, it does look like it's worth the most. It shouldn't be difficult asking people if they've seen a man with a large, golden gem that keeps the Wheel balanced. Whatever happens, Thromar and I will meet you in Prifrane in a week's time."
"A week?" Logan echoed. "Do we have that much time?"
"Who's to say?" said the Murderer with a shrug. "If we don't, we'll find out. According to Barthol, much more energy has to be released before the Wheel tips on its side; we don't have to worry about that. Finding the Smythe after we recover the Jewel is something to worry about."
The apprehension and fear of the missing Jewel blinded Logan to the usual unease he felt when splitting up with Moknay and Thromar. Contradicting messages ran from his brain to his eyes: to watch for the thief, and, at the same time, to stare at the diminishing forms of his companions. Abruptly, Cyrene spurred her horse forward, and both commands were lost.
The dark forest blurred past the young man as he clung tightly to Cyrene's waist and her horse.
All sense of time fled, and Logan hardly noticed the sun rise behind him and set directly before him. Two more days of searching passed, frequented by more rests which stimulated Logan's fear even more. Nervously, he paced back and forth, kicking at pebbles and weeds.
Cyrene watched him from where she sat upon a log, sipping some wine. "Calm down," she told him. "Even he has to rest. Sooner or later we'll catch up to him-if he's gone west. If not, your friends will get him."
Logan ran a hand through his black hair. "You know," he snapped at her, "you're taking this too calmly. That Jewel means the destruction of your world… not mine. Don't you care that someone who doesn't know what he's got is running around not doing anything about it?"
Cyrene shrugged.
Logan's blue eyes narrowed. "Let's put it this way," he said. "Without that Jewel, Vaugen won't be after us with such flair now."
The girl's eyes blazed at the mention of the Imperator, and she focused on Logan. "At the pace we've been traveling, he'll never find us anyway," she retorted. "If I was really that single-minded, I would never have gone so far or so fast. I practically rode my horse to death carrying you and all." She stood up and jabbed a finger in Logan's direction. "I'm here because I want to gain something, just like your other friends-just like you. I want to see Vaugen dead, and you're the best chance I've got of running into him. That's why I'm helping you-so you can help me."
Logan turned away from the blonde, glaring up angrily at the Hills of Sadroia which loomed above him. In three days time he and Cyrene had reached the southeastern base of the Hills, and, if they had the Jewel, they could have already begun the search for the Smythe. Logan saw there were a lot of mountains, but the southern portion was a region of foothills, easily scaled by someone as healthy and as young as Logan. He used to have fun climbing mountains like those back on Earth-backpacking in national parks or just scuttling up reefs at the beach.
Melancholy set in as Logan reminisced about his previous world. It was, at most times, a rat-hole, but it did have its good points. The recreational devices of California were better suited to Logan's tastes than the Sparrillian equivalent. He'd rather ride a roller coaster than brawl in a tavern or slay a dragon. Slay a dragon? He had hardly seen any really bizarre monsters here-only that grey thing that he had killed outside of Eadarus. The other beasts had been explained to him-like the Blackbody and the Demon.
Softened by his emotions, Logan turned back to Cyrene, momentarily forgetting about the thief. "What's a chomprat?" he wondered.
The girl let out a short laugh, remembering she had called Logan that. "A chomprat is a furry beast about the size of a small pony with large ears and a pink nose. It usually eats through anything; hence the name."
A big rat, Logan nodded to himself. A big fat rat that chomps. And a waterfoal, he guessed, would probably be a horse of the water… a sea horse! A sea horse? But Moknay had quipped that they weren't riding them! Were the sea horses here big enough to ride?
A familiar buzz suddenly flapped into Logan's brain, and the young man frowned as the sensation of discord returned. For the past three days he hadn't been bothered much by the feeling-oh, every so often it kicked him in the butt to remind him that it was there, but it had not returned with any strength. This time, Logan knew, it was growing stronger.
Cyrene noticed the young man clamp his hands to his head. "Matthew? What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.
Logan snarled, "Just this stupid feeling I get-like when the Blackbody attacked."
Terror welled up within him and Cyrene as they scanned the forest to their backs for another flaring black form. Thankfully, Logan realized the infernal disharmony was not going to get much worse, although it continued to rattle about in his skull.
As the sun hung directly above them, Logan caught a brilliant flare to the northeast, slightly obscured by the Hills.
Some of the mountains gleamed with a golden light as the sensation increased.
"He's behind us!" Logan cried, pointing into the Hills. "He must have entered the Hills and we passed him!"
The golden glow reflected in Cyrene's deep blue eyes and illuminated the fear that surged inside her. She, although not to Moknay's degree, Logan saw, feared the Jewel.
The young man motioned toward her horse. "We've got to get him," he said.
"How?" Cyrene questioned. "He'll keep moving further into the Hills."
The young man gave her an odd smile. "That Jewel is acting like a beacon, and, besides"-he tapped his skull-"I seem to have this built-in radar. Even if he leaves the Jewel someplace, we can find it."
Hope sprang to life within Logan as the two mounted the horse and charged eastward. Cyrene directed her silver-and-blue horse through a small, level pass through the foothills. The Jewel's glare continued to throb to their right, and the buzz in Logan's head amplified. Enormous boulders surrounded them as they thundered onward, pebbles and dirt kicked up under the hooves of Cyrene's mount. There was an abrupt culmination of yellow light in the east, and the horse halted, skidding to a stop in the loose dirt. Logan lost his balance and spilled to the hard-packed soil, the sensation of mismatchment echoing the eruption of yellow.
Shaking the fuzziness out of his head, Logan gave Cyrene a weak glance. A low rumble reverberated through his ears while he grumbled about falling out of the saddle. You'd think he'd have gotten better at riding horses by now!
A deluge of horror burst in the young man's breast as the low rumble magnified, and a shower of dirt drizzled down from the mountains above him. The earth beneath him shuddered violently, quivering back and forth as if wracked by convulsions. Thunder boomed as a boulder broke away from its lofty perch and tumbled down near the two. Cyrene's horse panicked, skittering backwards. Rocks began to cascade from the hillsides, and the golden glow in the east continued pulsating.
"Matthew!" Cyrene was able to choke, as fearful as her mount.
The world seemed to come apart as the ground heaved, a jagged crack gaping wide like a cavernous mouth along the rocky floor. Nearing a frenzy, Cyrene's horse wheeled about, thundering back toward the south. Logan watched in a stunned daze as the girl and horse charged back the way they had come.
A tremendous bellow seemed to blow open Logan's mind, and the quaking below him trembled in expectation. "Cyrene!" he cried out. "Jump! For Christ's sake, jump!"
There was a blur of white fabric as the blonde dived blindly from her mount, and Logan winced at the brutal jarring she took. He crawled desperately toward her and the taste of dust filled his mouth. A hideous, high-pitched shriek momentarily drowned out the rumbling as a titanic ledge of stone gave way and crushed Cyrene's silver-and-blue horse. Clouds of dirt mushroomed into the air, and tears streamed down Logan's dirtied face as he searched for Cyrene. Fortunately, her white clothing stood out within the swirling yellow-brown fog, and Logan grabbed her hand, struggling to get to his feet.
"What is it?" the girl screamed.
"The Jewel!" Logan responded. "The second catastrophe!"
In reply, the entire portion of hill they stood upon crumbled and a violent tidal wave of rock crashed down the mountainside. Cyrene let out a curt shriek as she and Logan fell with the stones, clinging frantically to one another, gasping for breath in the dust-filled air. Pain tore through Logan's left arm as his sword wound reopened, and warm fluid began to trickle down his forearm. A savage shock snapped the young man's head back as he struck bottom, and all the wind was knocked from his lungs as Cyrene fell on top of him. The sensation of disunity heightened, aroused by the chaos about it, and the golden sun continued flaring in the east.
Run, Logan's mind advised, but his legs would not respond. Dazed, he lay there, stones and mountaintops shattering around him. The foliage of the foothills shivered fitfully and a tree careened to one side, a massive stone tumbling into it. Leaves wafted about Logan as he fought his muscles and the trembling earth and clambered to his feet. Unseen bruises ached all over his body, and the sharp, recurring pain in his arm kept reminding him of his vulnerability. Sore, he pulled Cyrene to her feet, and, together, they stumbled across the sloping hillsides. The entire world was bathed in an eerie golden light as the earth shifted and moved under their feet, unscrupulously trying to trip them up and send them to their deaths.
Cyrene stumbled, and, in trying to regain her balance, staggered up against a tree. The earth bucked, and tons of rocky soil broke free as the tree pitched forward. The blonde let out a shout, her slim arms flailing about as she started to fall. Logan's grip on her tightened as he heaved himself backwards, succeeding in pulling the girl away from the treacherous drop that had suddenly appeared before her.
Dust crept into Logan's throat, and he gagged, jumping as a boulder fell somewhere nearby. Yellow-brown dirt covered Cyrene's clothing, and her flowing skirt was torn and shredded. Both their fingers were scraped and bruised, and dust had accumulated in their hair. Their eyes became red and sore from the invading dirt, and particles of dust crawled under Logan's contact lenses, causing flashes of pain to accompany each blink of his eyes.
Half-stumbling, half-sliding, the couple forged their way down a hill and suddenly found themselves in the middle of the sun. Yellow-gold flames surrounded them, yet there was no heat. The buzz in Logan's head and a strange tingling around his neck informed the young man that they had found the Jewel.
An enraged god seemed to cry out, and the Jewel lashed out in a brilliant explosion of gold. Cyrene and Logan were flung backwards, batted away by a massive hand. Grimly, the young man waited for impact… the moment when he and Cyrene would smack into an unyielding mountainside and splatter like tomatoes. To his surprise, the pair struck the ground and it was the earth that gave way below them. Stars and flaring Jewels erupted behind Logan's eyelids as the ground collapsed. Cyrene fell beside him, spiraling down into what seemed to be a bottomless pit, and Logan reached out his left arm for her.
Soft fingers curled around his limb, and agony seared through the young man. Damn! he thought. His head was swirling so that he had forgotten the blood-leaking cut on his arm. Nonetheless, Cyrene grabbed hold, dangling from Logan's limp, numb limb. His right hand had luckily grasped the lip of their pit.
"Hold on," he said through clenched teeth.
As if you're going to hold on? Logan asked himself sarcastically. The ground was unmercifully heaving back and forth, pulling away from his hand and then ramming back. Sharp stones ground into the palm of his hand, and sweat and blood made his grip falter. Assaulted by pain, Logan tried to pull himself from the gaping wound in the ground, his blood also causing Cyrene's fingers to slip. She frantically sought out new handholds on his arm as Logan pulled one foot over his shoulder and out onto level ground. At any moment the young man thought he would fall back into the crevasse, precariously perched as he was-half-in, half-out. The insistent buzz and tingle were not helping his concentration either.
Golden light warmly greeted his bloodshot eyes as he raised his head from out of the chasm, bloody fingers scrabbling madly for a hold. His left arm still dangled within the abyss, Cyrene clasping the injured limb with blackness grinning up at her. With a final heave, Logan rolled himself out of the crater, gradually reeling Cyrene up as the earth bucked under him.
The golden fire began to diminish, and the rumble of turbulence died; the clouds of dust began to settle.
"Agellic," Cyrene whimpered.
Logan twisted over until he was facing the direction of the Jewel. Dirt still swirled in the air, but he could see the golden Jewel lying in a deep crater below an outcropping of rock. A form silhouetted by the dust lay next to it.
Logan turned his tear-streaked face to Cyrene and queried, "Are you okay?"
Cyrene nodded, dirt shaking free of her dark blonde hair. "I think so."
The displacement around Logan faded, and, somehow, he found the strength to sit up. He could now see the thief sprawled out near the Jewel's cavity, golden flames lapping at his bare bones,
"Jesus Christ," he cursed, "the Blackbody was right. The combined discharge of the two disasters killed him."
The young man turned away from the skeletal thief and saw Cyrene peering at him. Self-consciously, he wiped the sweat and dirt away from his face. From the way she was staring at him, he thought something might have been hanging out of his nose!
"Is something wrong?" he questioned.
An admiring glitter sparked in Cyrene's eyes. "You saved my life," she breathed. "Three times."
Logan could feel his face flush in embarrassment as he got to his feet, waiting for the shakiness to leave his muscles. His sweat suit, he noticed, was completely dusted, and clouds of dirt spumed into the air as he beat at his clothing. A number of times he hit sore spots and winced as pain nipped at his nerves. Cyrene also got to her feet, frowning as she inspected the rips in her skirt and bodice. Her eyes twinkled, however, every time she glanced at Logan.
Logan offered his hand. "Let's go see if we can salvage anything from your horse," he suggested.
The blonde took his hand, nodding. Before clambering back up, Logan slid into the deep depression and picked up the Jewel, not looking at the fleshless thief. Even the leather pouch had been burned away by the double discharge, he realized, and, uneasily, tucked the Jewel under his left arm. He had no idea where his stolen horse had run off to.
He rejoined Cyrene, who was busily struggling back up, and the two fought their way to the crushed horse. Logan winced at all the blood, but Cyrene tiptoed daintily about the rocks and puddles, tugging out the saddlebags of her mount. Fortunately, most of her rations were intact, and she was able to pull free a heavy cloak. Everything else was lost beneath the rubble.
Logan shifted the Jewel to his right arm as Cyrene approached him. Dejectedly, the blonde sat down at the edge of the slope, staring out over the mountain range and the settling dust.
"Now what?"
Logan wiped the blood off his left arm. "Don't know," he answered, flinching as he touched his wound.
Cyrene looked up at him, her hands going to his injured forearm. "We're going to have to find some way to clean ourselves up," she said. "That cut looks like it got a lot of dirt in it."
Logan blanched. An infected cut? Just what he needed-and no modern medicine! No Band-Aids! No hydrogen peroxide! If they couldn't find water… what? Would they have to chop off his arm?
When Logan was able to force his worries away, Cyrene was already sliding down the hillside, trying to keep her balance as she skated over the rocky surface. Puzzled, Logan trailed.
"Cyrene," he called, "where are you going?"
The blonde did not look back. "Saw something," was all she said.
Logan continued to follow, almost losing the Jewel when he reached level ground. Stumbling to keep the gem and his balance, he noticed the gnarled limb of an oak tree half-protruding from the stones. Smiling when he saw it was unbroken, the young man freed Druid Launce's staff and leaned against it as he tagged behind Cyrene. He finally caught up with her near the thief's skeleton and burned-out ditch. He blinked when he saw the small geyser of water spouting from a crack in the mountainside.
Cyrene turned back to him, smiling. "That quake upset an underground spring," she surmised, stepping up to the bubbling water.
While crystal-clear water formed a pool in the crater below the fountaining spring, the pair washed the dirt and blood from their bodies. They were even able to wash the grime from their hair by leaning over the geyser. It was like an upside-down showerhead, Logan thought. And the water was warm, not boiling hot.
The young man was a bit taken aback when Cyrene told him to strip, until she explained she would wash his clothing. Awkwardly, Logan pulled off his sweat suit and handed it to the blonde. His clothing below wasn't in much better condition, and he knew Cyrene was waiting for those as well. Feeling like a complete goon, he shed his shirt, shoes, and socks, but hesitated after that.
Cyrene had a mischievous smile on her face as she watched him. "I don't bite," she quipped, and Logan knew he didn't have to be Freud to figure that one out!
His cheeks grew warm and he wondered what brilliant shade of red he had become.
"There's a little grassy knoll to our left," Cyrene told him. "If you want, you can go over there… behind some rocks." The glitter in her deep blue eyes grew. "But I want everything," she warned.
Goon! Goon! Goon! Goon! Goon! Logan muttered to himself as he left. You got something against your body? Afraid to show it to someone who's only washing your clothes?
But she's a female! another portion of his mind declared, shocked.
Brilliant observation! Logan mocked himself. Jesus, I made myself look even dumber by standing around not wanting to give her my pants than just ripping them off and giving 'em to her!
But then you'd be naked! his mind cried out in horror.
Oh, great! Logan retorted. It's wonderful to know that I'm so knowledgeable when it comes to the human body!
Still arguing with himself, Logan rounded some boulders and walked across the grass. A few large stones lay strewn about the knoll, probably dislodged from the quake but looking rather decorative in the grassy area. He gave the area a quick scan and convinced himself he was well hidden from anyone in the mountain range. Hurriedly, he stripped off his remaining clothes and threw them over the rocks to Cyrene. In a feeble attempt to get his mind off his state, the young man unsheathed his sword and practiced swinging the blade. After a while, he became relaxed, and the cool, fresh air of the Hills stimulated every portion of his body. A gentle breeze tickled the hairs on his legs, and an oddly natural feeling crept upon Logan, quite the opposite of that disturbing buzz of disagreement.
Logan slipped the talisman over his head and sat down, sighing as the aches eased in his muscles.
"Matthew," CyTene called to him.
Logan perked up. "What?"
"The water's collecting into a perfect pond," the blonde told him. "If you want to wash yourself, you can just jump in." Then she added, "I won't look."
Logan set his dagger, staff, sword, and the Jewel down beside the talisman. A vital, refreshing feeling flowed through his muscles, and he stood up proudly. "No, that's all right." Then he added, "You can look."
Logan was only slightly surprised when he rounded the rocks and found Cyrene already in the stone-shaped pond. The spring, he saw, was flowing into the crater formed by the Jewel's double discharge, and, like Cyrene had told him, it created the perfect pond. Eagerly, he joined her in the warm liquid while she watched him advance, blue eyes twinkling.
With a whoop, Logan splashed into the water, submerging and shaking his head free of any remaining dirt in his hair. He surfaced directly in front of Cyrene, and the crystal-clear waters were like a shimmering gown on her beautiful frame.
She was eyeing him in a like fashion.
Cyrene kicked through the pond, nosing up to the young man. Her blue eyes were locked on his as she halted an inch away from his face. "How much?" she asked.
Logan wiped water from his face. "Huh?" he exclaimed. "How much what?"
Deep blue eyes trailed up Logan's body. "Money," said the blonde with a smirk. "How much money?"
Logan couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. She was using his exact lines herself! "What do you take me for?" Logan questioned, softly. "A chomprat?"
Cyrene blinked, striking Logan with a face full of water. "Oh, you!" she scolded.
Logan failed to duck the liquid and sent a wave of his own at Cyrene. The girl's blonde hair darkened as the clear water flooded over her. She jumped backwards, half-out of the water.
Logan's eyes locked on her upper torso as it crested the surface, droplets of water running down her bare chest.
The pond seemed to get warmer, and Logan wished the water wasn't so clear.
Cyrene swam around him, and soft, wet arms draped around his neck. Her cheek pressed up against his own, and the feel of flesh on flesh made every nerve in Logan's body spark to life.
"I can never thank you enough," she whispered into his ear. "You saved my life."
Logan lost the use of his tongue as Cyrene pressed up against him, her firm breasts flattening against his back. A long fingernail traced down Logan's neck to his shoulder, applying just enough pressure to leave a faint red line. Then she was gone, and Logan spun around as she stepped out of the water, brushing back her wet hair. The lowering sun gleamed off the liquid that trickled down her slim curves, and she extended a hand. Together, the two went to the grassy knoll, their wet clothes drying upon the rocks around them. Logan's eyes were transfixed on Cyrene's shapely backside as she led him to the hillock, grasping tightly to his hand. When she turned, her lips met his and her hands roamed across his wet body eagerly. Motions as fluid as water brought them down onto the grass, and the raging beasts of Logan's desires broke out of their cages.
An almost godly amount of restraint halted him.
Cyrene looked at him. "What is it?"
"I-I don't…" Logan stuttered. "What if you get pregnant?"
The blonde threw back her head and laughed. "Matthew," she giggled, "we're not wed in Agellic's eyes-we can't bear any children."
The young man raised his eyebrows in question.
"At the ceremony, the priest weaves the spell of bonding between the man and the woman," Cyrene explained. "It is that spell that makes the woman fertile. Before that spell is cast, women can't bear children. It's physically impossible." Her deep blue eyes were aglow with amusement. "Your world isn't like that?"
Logan shook his head in dumbed fascination. "No, it isn't-but I wish it was." Then he asked, "And you can't get pregnant until after you're married?"
"It's that way for every woman on this world," the blonde declared. "And this is one unwed woman who is extremely grateful to you for saving her life."
Their lips fused once more, and all the soreness was gone from Logan's muscles. His questing hands moved down Cyrene's body, traveling across her sleek hips and firm thighs. Desire overpowered him and his actions became faster, his fingers wanting to be everywhere at once on the gorgeous creature below him. Cyrene's own fingers ran through his black hair, her shapely hips undulating beneath him in her own hunger. Invisible tongues of fire remained everywhere Cyrene touched him, and the girl gasped as Logan's hands explored her beauty. Her shapely legs parted invitingly, and Logan paused a moment, drinking in every detail about the voluptuous blonde sprawled beneath him. Yearningly, Cyrene's fingers closed in about his manhood and directed him toward her moist orifice. Slowly, teas-ingly, his loins aflame, Logan slid into her, gasping for breath.
The fire built as the two gave in to their desires, arms entwined about one another as the rhythm of their hips quickened. Passion Logan thought he was incapable of experiencing burned within his body, and the ecstasy increased as he glided back and then pushed deeper. Cyrene's fingernails raked across his back, her breathing the heavy panting of a wild animal. The fervor heightened until the two shared an explosive release, and their grips slowly eased. Logan withdrew reluctantly from Cyrene's tightness, an arm about her waist. The blonde kissed him once, silently, and sighed as she lay back onto the blanket of grass.
Logan's passion gradually diminished and weariness set in. The harsh days of riding, the narrow escapes from the upheaval, all descended upon the young man until even his sexual drive was quenched.
Holding the slender blonde to him, Logan felt sleep challenge him, and he succumbed.
A gargling rasp pulled Logan out of his deep sleep, and he raised his head with a weary groan. Cyrene still lay beside him, beautiful in sleep, her bare breasts rising and falling as she breathed. The urges of the night before refilled his mind as he stared at the blonde's luscious frame highlighted by the midmorning rays of the sun. Suddenly, the hideous death rattle sounded again, and Logan snapped up and around.
Immediately, the young man looked to find any red and silver, thinking what he saw was a dream, and yet, nothing even glinted with the familiar colors. Pulling himself into a sitting position, Logan stared at the line of figures blocking the knoll. Cyrene stirred beside him and also saw the row of forms confronting them.
Reakmor Farkarrez took a step toward them, his severed flesh rasping as air passed through his windpipe. "How quaint," he mocked, his voice distorted by his slit throat. "Matthew Logan has found a slut."
Instant fury boiled away the fear and wonderment, and Logan made a threatening move. He realized, then, that he was naked and unarmed, his sword, staff, and dagger lying off to one side beside the talisman and Jewel.
"You…!" Cyrene gasped, sitting rigid. "You're dead!"
Farkarrez grinned, and the effect was hideous: His mouth and slit throat gave his lean features two smiles. "Oh, yes, I am," he answered, "and so are all my men." He marched arrogantly toward the couple, glaring down at them with eyes unable to reflect emotion. "And soon, so shall you."