The Jewel of Equilibrant w-1

by Steven Frankos

  "You hold sway to the entire multiverse. You are an Outsider. You should not be here."

  Matthew Logan's eyes flickered open, staring at the spiraling vortex of blood and metal that drenched the Hills with its blinding glare. A familiar sensation of wrongness swelled up around and within him, and a manlike shape composed of complete blackness stepped toward him.

  "I am a Being of the Megacosmos-you are an infectious microorganism to this world. You do not belong here. You are intruding. You upset the natural Balance of things and cause much havoc to be spread throughout the Macrocosm. Even the land senses your difference. Can you not hear its damnations?"

  The reverberating, powerful voice of the Blackbody gradually faded into the vacuum of lights and colors, and a wheezing chorus of whispering voices replaced it. The sense of mismatchment expanded, rippling as the whispers grew louder, and Logan could tell the chorus belonged to the feeling itself.

  Get out. Outsider. Get out. Outsider. Get out. Outsider. Get out.

  The sensation became overpowering, knocking Logan to his knees as it tried to pry apart his skull. The damning whispers slowly receded, but the wrongness inside him remained. Helplessly, the young man looked up into the red-and-silver illumination and saw hazy forms encircling him. Only their faces were detailed-all else was out of focus. They were his friends, people he had known in Sparrill and on Earth; they were his foes, from Sparrill and Earth alike. All gazed down at him, unaccepting scowls drawn across their faces.

  "Get out, Outsider," Moknay snarled.

  "You should not be here," spat Cyrene.

  "You do not belong," his parents condemned.

  "Parasite," Groathit cursed.

  "Murdering stranger," Druid Launce accused.

  "You are not one of us," Priestess Mara charged.

  "Defiler of the land," growled Thromar.

  "Intruder," his coworkers sneered.

  From face to face the unfriendly scowl was the same. All of these people told the truth! Logan cried to himself. He was an Outsider; he was a stranger! But they had no right to blame him! No right! Was it his fault every way he tried to get home loused things up even more? He was different here, he knew that-why was that such a crime?

  "You are capable of causing the destruction of the entire Macrocosm if you stay," the Blackbody answered his unspoken question. "You also cause great unrest in the natural Balance of things."

  The feeling of disharmony gained more power, its agonizing buzz drilling into Logan's brain. The whispering chorus returned and the hazy forms chanted along. Teeth clenched as if to battle the pain, Logan clamped his hands over his ears in a feeble attempt to block out the words. But the chanting was inside him as well, and he could not force the voices out. Screaming, the young man shut his eyes and curled into a fetal position. Chants and buzz strengthened until Logan's skull felt as if it would explode…

  Sunlight seeped into the Hills as Logan's eyes popped open. Stupid dreams, he grumbled. Stupid red-and-silver dreams! Just what the hell was that one supposed to prove? Oh, well, I've got other things to do than sit around and interpret dreams.

  Logan got up from his rocky bed, stretching, and scanned the quiet hillsides. The dirt and stones were lit by the yellow rays of the sun, and the cool mountain air seemed to restore Logan's strength. There was something astonishing about the very air of Sparrill, the young man noted. It seemed to perk him up-return strength he would have thought lost forever. The past week had consisted of three days of harsh horseback riding, one day of escaping earthquakes, and one day of capture. Not to mention his night with Cyrene and his previous night running. Not only that, he hadn't eaten since his capture; and yet, the air of Sparrill lifted him-gave him the strength he needed to go on. Maybe it didn't affect just him either, he mused. Most of the people he had seen had been in pretty good shape. Something in the air enhanced people's health, he guessed, and his was included.

  Get out.

  Logan froze. Streams of sunlight cascaded into the Hills, blazing down upon him like a spotlight as the whispering dissipated. A familiar buzz boiled upward from the earth, sinking into Logan with the sensation of misplacement. Bewildered, the young man leaned against Launce's staff, eyes wide as he searched for the astral choir.

  Outsider, you do not belong. Get out.

  His dream! Logan recalled. The sensation in his dream had spoken, and now, it truly had found its voice! The feeling of disharmony itself was communicating with the young man! Jesus Christ! That was even worse than before!

  Intruder, the disunity said.

  "Shut up!" roared Logan, wheeling around in an attempt to find the speaker. "I am not intruding! This is your fault!"

  The rasping chorus did not reply, and, somehow, Logan knew he was right. The very feeling that disturbed him so much had had a hand in his transportation from Earth to Sparrill. At first Logan had assumed the sensation to be an exaggerated version of unfamiliarity-like the feeling one gets going to someplace new and different-but it was more. It was the very essence of the land, that aspect that made the enhanced health possible, the law that made women infertile until marriage. Somehow, this god-awful sensation tied in with all that, and, while continually accusing Logan of intruding, it had been a major cause in bringing him here. But why? And just what was so damn important that interested Vaugen so much?

  Gathering the Jewel under one arm, Logan started westward, ideas running through his mind. Why was he so important to Vaugen? Because he came from Earth? Possibly… he had been addressed as "man from another world" by two of Vaugen's men. But why was a "man from another world" so damn important that he had to be taken alive? Did it somehow have to do with his being different? Perhaps. No one else Logan had met had been plagued by the infernal buzz that, even now, remained hovering about him. But just how did being different make him important? It hindered him more than helped him. A few times the sensation had gotten so bad Logan had almost passed out-Shit! When the Blackbody had attacked, Logan had almost been knocked clear out of his saddle! If Vaugen wanted to be different, let him! Logan was getting downright sick and tired of Sparrill and of being different!

  Then leave, the disagreement demanded.

  I am trying to leave! Logan shot back, grimacing as the buzz increased. Why don't you leave me alone? Look, I helped you with the zombies.

  The whispering chorus of voices had no reply, but the infernal hum strengthened. If only it was a bug, wished Logan. I'd squash that sucker flat! Unfortunately, the ever-present feeling was not physical and could not be stamped out. Grumbling, Logan continued his trek through the Hills, turning, once again, to the mystery of his importance.

  It can't be my knowledge of weapons, he thought. I mean, I know what they look like and how to use a lot of them, but I can't make them. Christ, if Vaugen wants someone to engineer him a catapult, he's chasing after the wrong guy! Boy, wouldn't that just be great if that's what he wants? As soon as he foUnd out I don't know beans about building things, he'd wipe me out! Or maybe he wants to go to Earth? Naw, that's a comic-book plot. The bad guy wants to conquer all known dimensions! I don't think Vaugen wants to rule Santa Monica-if he does, he'll have another disappointment.

  Like a swarm of bees, the sensation of mismatchment converged on Logan, momentarily deafening the young man with its obnoxious buzzing. Logan snarled at the feeling. Ever since it had aided him in destroying Farkarrez, the feeling had gotten nastier. The young man sneered: That's gratitude!

  A low gurgle sounded from Logan's empty stomach as the young man skidded down an incline. A bizarre duet resounded in his ears as his grumbling stomach and the infernal buzz simultaneously barked their displeasure. This was becoming too much!

  "Shut the fuck up!" Logan thundered, and his voice bounced off the mountains to sound over and over again.

  As his curse faded across the Hills, the perturbed rumbling of his belly ceased; the discordance did not.

  Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! The young man fumed, storming over a roc
ky ledge, Launce's staff stabbing into the hard-packed ground. This sensation was really getting to be a bother! If it was going to remain this persistent, Logan would have to do something about it.

  His blue eyes turned away from the hillsides and fixed on the golden Jewel under his arm. I'm lost, he told himself. Stuck in a mountain range trying to find Prifrane. I've got the Jewel, however, and I am in the Hills. Since I don't have a good shot at finding the town, why don't I search for the Smythe myself? Then I can get the hell out of here and this goddamn feeling will leave me alone!

  His anger and frustration agreed, and Logan surveyed the Hills. Then, deciding upon his route, he continued westward, searching for the Smythe.

  "My feet are sore, I don't have any food or water, I'm lost, and there's this buzz which is driving me insane!" Logan told the Hills his problems.

  Groaning, he sat down, placing the Jewel in his lap. The sun was directly above him, warming the mountains so that sweat dribbled down his face. The brownish yellow soil was like snow, reflecting the rays of the sun and spitting them back into Logan's face. Sunglasses would be so handy right now, the young man thought wistfully.

  A fumbling footstep kicked some pebbles free as Logan twirled around. He could sense someone behind a slope of rocks, probably attracted to him by his earlier comments to the Hills. The clumsy step he had caught made Farkarrez's dead warriors a possible choice, but none had been fast enough to have caught up with him already. His heartbeat quickened as his mind suggested Cyrene, but instant depression set in as he knew the girl would be out of the Hills by now-and the blonde had not been as loud and as unskilled as whoever lurked behind those stones.

  Cautiously, Logan withdrew Moknay's dagger and slid off his seat. "All right!" he called. "I know you're there! Come out!"

  Through the glare of the yellow-brown earth, Logan saw the squarish head poke up from behind the rocks, stringy black hair falling into the blue-skinned face.

  "Foooooood!" the ogre bellowed, hurriedly stomping toward Logan.

  The young man plopped back down to the ground, staring up at the happy ogre with distaste. "Boy, did you pick the wrong time to come back!" he stated. "I don't have any food at all! Not even for me!"

  The light blue creature stopped before Logan, its wide smile vanishing. "No fooooood?" it questioned.

  Logan shook his head. "None at all," he replied. "Not even a little bit."

  The huge beast cocked its massive head to one side. "Noooooo?" it asked again.

  Logan cast his gaze to the ground. "No," he agreed.

  Oddly, the ogre's smile returned as it plopped down beside Logan, causing a few rocks to shudder in the minor tremor. Wonderingly, Logan watched as thick fingers reached into a pocket of the tattered pants around the light blue waist and extracted some of the fruit Launce had given Logan.

  A gigantic hand thrust itself under Logan's nose. "Fooooooood!" the ogre boomed cheerfully.

  Logan's eyebrows shot up. "You sneak!" he exclaimed. "You saved that last handful I gave you!"

  The ogre grinned crookedly. "Gave yoooooou!" it replied, dumping the food in Logan's lap.

  The young man peered at the fruit for a moment, contemplating. It wasn't really fair to take something the ogre had so carefully saved, he thought. Then the ogre wouldn't have anything to eat. "I-I can't take this," he protested.

  The light blue ogre blinked.

  Logan handed the fruit back. "This is yours," he explained. "I can't take it."

  The light blue creature frowned when Logan tried to dump the food back into its lap. Huge hands stopped the young man before he could finish ridding himself of the fruit.

  "Fooooooood!" the ogre bellowed, giving Logan back what he had returned. "Yoooooou!"

  You're the one who lost his horse; you're the one who doesn't have any provisions, Logan's mind blamed him. You can't go and take someone else's.

  Logan faced the blue creature. "I can't," he started. "It's not…"

  Contorting its face into a hideous grimace of rage and indignation, the ogre released a furious growl, raising its brawny arms high above its head in a threatening gesture.

  "All right! All right!" Logan hastily said. "I'll eat it!"

  The crooked smile reappeared across the light blue face.

  Logan devoured the fruit. Even after the weeks that had passed, the food remained ripe and the succulent juices soothed Logan's dry throat. While he ate, the young man laughed at his own eagerness, realizing it was usually the light blue ogre who wolfed down his food.

  An idea formed in Logan's brain as he finished a fruit. "I happen to be lost," he told the ogre in between mouthfuls of another piece. "Have you seen my friends?"

  "Frrrrrrrriends?" the ogre asked back.

  Logan nodded. "Yeah, especially Cyrene. Blonde, a girl, in a white dress? She might still be in the Hills."

  "Whiiiiiite huuuuuumaaaaaan?" queried the ogre.

  "No, she's not the white human," Logan responded, although, in the ogre's terms, the white-dressed blonde could have been. "Say, where is the white human? Is he still following me?"

  The grin on the squarish face widened. "Deeeeeead!" it answered. "Yoooooou!"

  For a moment, Logan hesitated, then the realization sunk in. "Farkarrez!" he cried. "He wore a white chestplate! And he had been brought back by magic! That was what you had meant, wasn't it?"

  "Maaaaaagic!" the creature agreed.

  "What about Pembroke? The mad human? Is he still far?"

  The light blue beast paused before booming, "Faaaar."

  Logan threw away the core of the second fruit and started on a third. "What about Prifrane?" he wondered. "Can you show me where the town is?"

  Puzzlement entered the ogre's eyes, and its smile diminished.

  "Lots of people," Logan tried again, bringing his hands together as if to indicate a lot. "You know, a village?"

  Titanic shoulders heaved as the ogre shrugged.

  "You don't know where it is either?" Logan muttered. "Welcome to the club."

  "Cluuuuuuuub?" the huge creature repeated.

  A small smile crossed Logan's lips at the ogre's ignorance. "Never mind," he told it.

  The ogre screwed up its face. "Neverrrrrrmind?" it echoed. Its grin widened as it tapped the side of its huge head. "Meeeeee got!" it declared proudly.

  The sun dangled just above the mountaintops as Logan and his light blue companion trudged onward. With hills on either side of him, Logan was not sure exactly where he was in the mountain range, but he had figured the Smythe would be somewhere in the very center. That way it would be difficult to find him, but not impossible.

  With Druid Launce's staff lending support, Logan started up a grade. The heavy footsteps of the ogre did not sound beside him, and Logan turned around.

  The light blue beast was staring at the dirt, pointing. "Feeeeeeeet," it said.

  Logan scrambled back down and inspected the soil. As the ogre had noted, a number of prints decorated the earth. Most were booted feet but, here and there, the upside-down U of horseshoes marked the ground. A twinge of hope rose in Logan as he guessed this must be the path to the Smythe, but then he noticed the military order of the horses' hooves and the precision marching of those on foot. And, caught in the midst, was one set of smaller prints-markings that were almost feminine.

  "Cyrene!" Logan cried out loud, and the ogre stared at him in confusion.

  Frantically, Logan tried to follow the tracks, but hooves and feet branched off, sweeping away Cyrene's dainty footprints. Fearing the Reakthi had caught up with the girl, Logan traced the footprints farther into the mountains, the blue ogre trailing behind him in silent puzzlement.

  Logan halted, pointing toward the horses' tracks. "You go that way," he instructed the ogre. "Follow those prints. We've got to find Cyrene." He hesitated a moment, knowing the beast would not understand personal names. "She's a white girl. Can you find her?"

  "Whiiiiiite girrrrrrrl?" the ogre repeated.

  "Yes! Yes!
She might be in danger! We've got to help her!"

  Worriedly, Logan hurried after the tracks, leaving the ogre to follow the others. Cyrene! His mind raced. Alone, on foot, against at least two troops of men! She'd never be able to outrun them or defeat them. She was helpless. Logan knew that. He had been with her, slept with her-he knew how soft and fragile she was. She couldn't face two troops of soldiers! Oh, God! Don't let her die! Let her be all right!

  As the sun dropped lower into the west, shadows began to invade the Hills. All sense of direction fled the young man as he pursued the prints, and all that mattered was rescuing Cyrene from the death the Reakthi would give her.

  Scrabbling madly around a corner, Logan let out a shout as a horse suddenly blocked his path. The horse released its own startled snort, skittering backwards as it eyed the young man. A hint of recognition sparked in the green eyes. Slowly, Logan approached the stallion, smiling as sunlight gleamed off its yellow hide and green mane.

  "I don't believe it," he murmured, patting the horse's nose. "You picked the exact time to come back!"

  The young man swiftly replaced the Jewel in a saddlebag and climbed into the saddle. The yellow-and-green horse tossed its head happily, eagerly obeying Logan's command to follow the tracks. Clouds of dirt spewed into the air behind the stallion as it charged across level ground, following the military footprints. The sun had almost completely disappeared as Logan and his horse rounded a gigantic boulder, their hoofbeats resounding about them. Unexpectedly, the yellow-and-green mount halted, barred by a squadron of uniformed men awaiting them. Hoofbeats which Logan had thought were his horse's own sounded, and two mounted men blocked any hope of retreat.

  One of the Guardsmen on foot smiled. "Outsider, you are hereby under arrest by order of His Ultimate Paramount, King Mediyan, for presenting a danger to Sparrill and her Ruler. Sentence may be reduced if you agree to work for the King-if not, you shall be slain."

  Great! Logan thought. They weren't Reakthi, they were Guardsmen! And now Mediyan wanted Logan as badly as Vaugen! Where the hell are Moknay and Thromar when I need them?