The young man from Santa Monica hardly heard Moknay as he tried again and again to blink some tears onto his dry lenses while replacing the Jewel.
"We appear to be in more trouble than before," the Murderer was saying. "Not only do we now have Pembroke to contend with, but Groathit's out one spy. The next pawn he sends out may be just as fast as that bird but deadlier. The three of us will never get the Jewel to the Smythe if that happens."
"What do you suggest?" Thromar asked. "Find more help? Unless we go out of our way, there's not a town for leagues."
Moknay nodded curtly. "You said we're heading for Plestenah; maybe from there we can head toward Wailvye or Gelvanimore. Better to go out of our way than to never reach our destination."
When his eyes did not bother him quite so much, Logan put in, "But remember what Barthol told us: We don't have that much time before the Wheel tilts."
"Friend-Logan is correct," Thromar agreed. "Still, I might get us some help in Plestenah. Fraviar's a good friend of mine-what help he'd be I can't guess."
"Fraviar?" echoed Moknay. "The tavern owner?"
Thromar nodded with a shrug. "I said I didn't know what help he'd be."
The Murderer sighed grimly. "Some help is better than none."
Logan heard the voices of his companions as he lightly touched a fingertip to an eye, gently moving the lens on that eye. His vision blurred as the lens slid off to one side, then gradually corrected itself as the contact slipped back into place. Because of his blurry vision, and the movement of his horse, Logan almost disregarded the dark object he spied lurking through the trees… until it sprang out of the shrubbery and blocked their way.
Logan jumped, staring at the creature he had seen hiding in the bushes. It stood some three feet in height, covered with shaggy brown fur. Tiny eyes peered out from beneath all its hair, and a mouth filled with little sharp teeth also hid below the fuzz. Long arms dangled at its side, and it grasped a dagger in its five-fingered, almost human hand. With a loud, perturbed screech, the fur-covered creature bounded forward, waving its lengthy arms frantically. Its tiny eyes glittered, and a smile drew across its face, exposing two pointed fangs.
Halted by the strange beast, Moknay, Thromar, and Logan peered down at it and at the dagger it held. Sneering, Thromar placed a hand upon his sword hilt.
"Do not hurt him, please," the forest suddenly said.
The three men turned to see a dark-haired young man step free of the greenery, his boots making no noise upon the forest floor. A black robe covered his body, tied at the waist by a silver cord. He held a thick oak staff in one hand, and, with the other, he motioned for the little monkeylike creature to step back.
"You must excuse Munuc," he told them. "He always gets a little excited when strangers enter our forest." The robed young man smiled faintly. "I am Druid Launce."
"Druid?" repeated Moknay. "You live out in the forest?"
The druid nodded. "The land was given to us by Brolark, populated by Agellic, and made beautiful by Lelah; we should all learn to use it well." He pointed into the greenery. "My home is that way. Will you not come with me?"
Moknay gave the druid a skeptical glance and turned to his companions. Thromar, however, was eyeing Munuc, his meaty hand still at his sheath.
"Are you sure it's safe," the fighter queried, "giving him a dagger and all?"
Understanding the question and considering it an insult to his intelligence, Munuc released an angry screech and flailed his long arms at Thromar. The fighter, never having seen such a creature before, leaned back on Smeea and continued to watch the monkeylike beast carefully.
Druid Launce faintly smiled. "Munuc is very touchy," he explained, turning to his anthropoidlike companion. "Munuc, you must stop this misbehaving or I shall take your dagger away."
The little mouth dropped open in shock, and Munuc tried to hide his weapon beneath his fur. Launce watched his hairy friend lope off into the surrounding foliage before turning back to the trio.
"I found him roaming the woods one day," he stated. "I am not sure, but I think he is the only one of his kind-a most lonely kind of life." Starting off through the vegetation, Launce motioned with his staff. "This way."
His eyes better, Logan followed Moknay's example and jumped off his mount, leading it through the heavier foliage by the bridle. Thromar walked behind them, cursing as his massive boots stumbled and tripped through the shrubbery. Logan and Moknay also found the greenery a hindrance, but not as much as Thromar. Druid Launce, however, walked on, unhampered by the forest. It was almost as if the brush drew aside for him like a curtain of green.
Thromar let out a startled bellow as Munuc playfully sprang out of the treetops and onto Smeea. The horse started but did not object to the furry creature. Thromar, on the other hand, peered hard at the beast.
"Munuc has taken a liking to you," Druid Launce noted with a faint smile.
The monkeylike Munuc grinned at the fighter.
"He must have mistaken him for one of his kind," Moknay quipped.
Thromar brushed off the remark as he grinned back at Munuc. "It would appear I have a new friend," he boomed, looking over the little creature with more interest than fear.
The young druid broke through the bushes to a clearing overgrown with strands of ivy. An outcropping of rocks loomed to the right, and a hillock of grass rose ahead of them, partially obscured by a toppled tree. Massive oaks stood sentry about the ivy-strewn clearing, and Logan could hear water trickling in the distance.
Druid Launce pointed with his staff. "Welcome to my home," he declared.
Moknay blinked. "You live here?"
The druid nodded his head of dark brown hair. "I care for the forest, and, in turn, the forest cares for me." He snapped his fingers, and Munuc sprang from Smeea. "Munuc will see to your horses. Come."
Launce walked to one side of the hillock and disappeared. Following behind him, Logan slipped down the first, ivy-hidden step and searched for the second in the shadows of the fallen tree. Gradually, the young man was swallowed by the earth as he continued down the earthen staircase, descending farther and farther into the ground. He could hear Moknay and Thromar trailing him, the latter grumbling as he lost his footing. Unconsciously, Logan had been counting the steps, and, by the thirteenth stair, a torch flickered against the wall. When Logan left the twenty-seventh step, he found himself in Launce's home.
The druid's abode was a wide chamber, its walls neatly covered in clay. Furniture made out of wood filled the room, and a thin window with no glass allowed sunlight and fresh air to stream into the chamber. Logan saw a narrow hall, cloaked by shadows, that wound off to the right.
"Incredible," Moknay breathed.
The druid's chairs were padded with cushions filled with a type of moss, and clay bowls overspilled with odd fruits. Two unlit lanterns hung in the far corner of the room, near the narrow hallway, and a third dangled in the center of the room from a gnarled tree root which stretched across the roof of the chamber.
Moknay glanced out the slim window and peered at the ivy-covered clearing. "Can't somebody see this opening?" he wondered.
Druid Launce's faint smile appeared. "Did you?"
The Murderer barked a laugh.
Munuc energetically bounded into the room and flopped onto a table, snatching up a piece of fruit with his toes. Grinning, the little monkeylike thing tossed the bulb of fruit to Thromar, who was forced to stagger back before the fruit struck him in the beard.
"Go ahead," Druid Launce coaxed, "eat. There is much more. The forest is plentiful."
Thromar bit into the fruit and smacked his lips noisily. In reply, Logan's stomach growled blatantly, and Munuc jerked his almost humanlike head toward him. Still grinning his mischievous grin, the anthropoidlike beast hurled another fruit, this time directing it at Logan. As he caught it, he swung his gaze to Moknay, who was cautiously sniffing at the fruit bowl. Sensing Logan's eyes upon him, the Murderer glanced at him and nodded. At least the foo
d was not poisoned.
Logan turned the red-and-yellow bulb of fruit about in his hand and waved it under his nose experimentally. There wasn't much of a smell, so he chanced a bite. The taste was unique: a kind of sugary sweet, tangy taste accompanied by a juice that soothed Logan's dry throat. Marveling at the fruit-since Logan was not one to enjoy fruit-he turned to the window and almost choked. Prowling outside, ebony eyes aglow with hatred and madness, was the gaunt Pembroke.
"Pembroke!" gagged Logan, trying to swallow and speak at the same instant. "He's outside!"
Moknay wheeled around, grey eyes flashing. "What?"
The Murderer leaped to Logan's side, glaring out the narrow window. His gloved hands instinctively went to the strap of daggers across his chest.
Druid Launce looked over their shoulders at the odd figure in the rumpled clothing. "You know that man?" he questioned.
"He's pursuing us," Logan briefly explained, saying nothing more.
"He is your enemy, then?" the young druid inquired.
Moknay nodded.
"He's a maggot!" added Thromar from the table.
"Look at him," the Murderer breathed in awe. "He's sniffing around like a dog. He'll find this house for certain."
Druid Launce calmly picked up his staff and approached the hall caped in shadows. "Remain here," he ordered, then slid through the corridor and out of sight.
Pembroke jabbed at the vegetation with his fingers, his wild eyes scanning the immediate area. His movements were rodentlike as he jerked and scurried from one bush to another.
"He knows you are here," he called mockingly. "Come out and give Pembroke back his Child." There was no answer, so he kicked at a bush angrily. "Come out, I say!"
An almost inaudible snap whispered behind him, and the wiry man swung around, black eyes blazing. His Triblade slid silently out of its sheath as the servant glared at the young man emerging from the shrubbery, an oak staff held in one hand.
"He's going to get himself killed," Logan moaned, watching the druid from the hidden window.
Munuc let out a frantic bark and leaped to the window, scratching his furry head in bewilderment as he fixed his eyes on the two men outside.
"You are looking for something?" Druid Launce questioned Pembroke.
The servant's mouth drew back in a sneer. "No business of yours, holy man!" he spat.
"Perhaps it is," responded Launce. "I may be able to show you what you seek."
"Bah!" Pembroke scoffed. "You are a holy man! What do you know?"
"I know of many things," Launce answered. "I know of the forest. I know of the elements." He smiled faintly. "I know of you."
Pembroke raised his dark eyebrows and his eyes glittered. "Know you of me?" he repeated, stepping forward in interest.
"You are the one called Pembroke," the druid stated. "Now what do you seek in my forest?"
"I search for three men who have robbed me of what is mine," Pembroke growled, eyeing the young druid cautiously. "A grey man, a fat man, and… another. They hold the Jewel of Equilibrant-my Jewel. Pembroke's Child! Have you seen them?"
Druid Launce was silent for a long while.
"No," he finally answered. "I have not seen them."
Pembroke's jet-black eyes flared. "You lie!" he accused. "You have seen them! Where are they?"
The mad servant dived, his Triblade severing the air. Casually, Launce stepped to one side, easily evading the deadly weapon. Releasing an angered shriek, Pembroke lashed about, whiplike, swinging the three blades viciously.
"Where are they, holy man?" he screamed. "Where do they hide? Tell Pembroke or he shall kill you!"
Launce shook his head sadly. "I am sorry, but you may not do that."
The lean Pembroke halted, amused. "Oh, no? Then Pembroke shall prove you wrong."
The Triblade howled, and Logan turned away from the window, guilt seeping into the pores of his body. Molcnay, however, chuckled, and Thromar roared with delight as they peered out the opening. Dredging up his courage, Logan glanced out the window to see Druid Launce finish knocking aside the Triblade with his staff. Pembroke was forced to back up or else lose his hold on his heavy weapon.
"You are quick for a holy man," the servant said between clenched teeth, "but not quick enough!"
The Triblade split the air, and Druid Launce flipped backwards, a booted foot rushing up and slamming into the servant's wrist. The many-bladed weapon spun into the sky, the sunlight glistening off its murderous points. With a metallic clatter, it struck the ground beside the outcropping of rocks, some distance from Pembroke.
As the mad servant went to retrieve his blade, Druid Launce placed two fingers to his lips and blew. Pembroke jerked about as a shrill whistle rent the forest, but then, scowling, he bent to grasp his Triblade.
A sudden, throaty growl caused him to stumble back in shock.
"By my Jewel!" he cursed.
' Snarling from atop the outcropping of rocks was a large wolf, slavering as it watched over the massive Triblade. Growling like the wolf itself, Pembroke turned on Launce and blinked as two more grey forms padded silently beside the druid. For a moment, the insane servant was confused, flicking his night-filled eyes from wolf to wolf. Then, with reflexes impossible for a normal human, Pembroke sprang, snatching up his weapon and scampering off into the forest. The wolf atop the rocks slowly brought up its head to glare at Launce, its black lips drawn back in what could have been a canine grin.
"Thank you, my friends," the druid said, gratefully patting the wolf nearest him. "You may go. Remember to call for me should you ever need my help."
The three wolves stalked back into the foliage as Launce began descending the hidden stairwell of his home.
"That was remarkable!" Moknay laughed as Launce entered.
The druid shrugged off the compliment. "A few friends I called to aid me," he replied simply. All at once, his eyes grew harsh as they riveted upon Logan. "Why did you not tell me you carried the Jewel of Equilibrant?"
Logan swallowed hard, casting a pitiful gaze to his companions. What could he say to the druid? So far a Demon and a priestess had gone out of their way to steal the Jewel-and Launce's appearance had been all too unexpected. The druid had just frightened off Pembroke, but, at this point, Logan was no longer trusting anyone he met. It was too dangerous-and costly.
"We are trying to get the Jewel to the Smythe," Moknay told the druid when Logan said nothing, "and cannot be greatly delayed since the powers are escaping. We were trying to be cautious with our secret cargo."
"And you thought I may prove to be a danger?" Launce said, and his faint smile reappeared. "You honor me with abilities I do not have. But, to prove myself a friend, we shall remain here tonight. Then, at dawn's first light, I shall escort you to Plestenah. And you have my word as a friend that I shall not rest until you-and the Jewel-are there safely."
His oaken staff before him, Druid Launce sat upon his horse as it made its way through the forest. The greenery politely peeled back for the four horses, closing behind them once the mounts had passed. The saddlebags had been filled with fresh supplies, and the three had bathed before starting off. Both Moknay and Logan had shaved with daggers, the latter bearing the wounds to prove it.
"We are approaching the Roana, my friends," reported Druid Launce from the lead. "I can hear the sprite's song."
Logan blinked. "The what?"
Druid Launce's faint smile spread across his face. "The land of Sparrill-and some believe Denzil-was guarded by three sprites, Roana, Salena, and Glorana. With the aid of a magical Bloodstone, the very Heart of Sparrill's beauty and magic, the sprites kept our land pure and bountiful. One day a vile Deil was sent by the Voices of the Dark. So horrid and evil was this creature that all the Demons alive today could not match its wickedness. It had been sent by its masters to wound and destroy the Heart of the land, and, for many years, plague, famine, war, and strife reigned throughout Sparrill.
"Seeing the pain that Sparrill suffered, Roa
na became determined to cast the foul Deil out and called upon the magics of the Bloodstone to aid her. The creature, called Gangrorz by its masters, learned of her intent, and a vicious battle followed. In the course of the battle, the powers intensified and Deil, sprite, and Bloodstone were all lost.
"It is believed Gangrorz was struck full in the face by the Bloodstone's blow and was sent reeling into the heavens. When he landed, ablaze with the cosmic fire of the Air, he struck with a thousand thunderclaps. A large crater was gorged into our beloved land, and the Sea of Hedelva rushed in and drowned the hideous Deil, filling the wound he had created with horrid, putrid waters. This became known as the Demonry River and stagnant Lake Atricrix. Roana, meanwhile, was similarly lost, and, with her, the Heart of Sparrill. Following the belief that Roana herself became part of the river, it was so named after the sprite. I know she does indeed live on in the river, for I have heard the sprite singing."
A cloud of silence hovered over the quartet for a moment as the druid completed his tale. Interesting, Logan mused. Guardian sprites and a Heart for the land itself… and the ability to blame all mishap on the "Voices of the Dark." Then again, what were myths and religions but ways to explain things that would otherwise be unexplainable? Such as the formation of a lake?
"What about the other sprites?" Logan asked out of curiosity.
"Glorana and Salena deeply mourned their sister's departure and melded with the remaining two rivers in Sparrill to be with Roana. That is why all rivers intersect."
Munuc, sitting with Thromar on Smeea, abruptly screeched. Pulled forcibly out of his thoughts, Logan jerked his head up as Druid Launce reined in his horse. Thromar extracted his massive sword, peering about the foliage with a distasteful glare. Moknay also withdrew his weapon, straining his ears to pick out any unnatural sounds. Only Logan was unready for what happened next.
Two dark horses emerged from the forest.
"This is as far as you shall ever get," a familiar voice croaked.
Logan swung his head to the left and snarled to himself. The jagged, blue-grey hair and silver chestplate seemed to shimmer mockingly back at him, and the glazed left eye singled out Logan and voicelessly accused him of its blindness. The second rider was examining the quartet as curiously as they were examining him. Folded across a pitch-black chestplate, his thick arms were riddled, as was his face, with white lines of scar tissue. Grey-black hair was neatly groomed atop his head, and dull grey eyes scrutinized the four.
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