Yamara - Book 2 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I relived those final moments in the capitol of Elendar. My sword plunging into Brina's belly to get to James and his own blade slashing mercilessly across half of Brina's throat. As much as I tried to stem their intrusion into my consciousness, I could not. No matter how cold or hard hearted I tried to be, I had let Brina in to deeply to rid myself of her memory like a duck shaking water off of its back.

Stumbling through the sewers, imagine my surprise to find the very same entrance I had used to enter the sewers when I confronted James was now sealed off by a combination cave in of mud and sewage. Thus I was forced to escaped from Elendar into a great system of caverns beneath the mighty kingdom. The things I heard and occasionally caught glimpses of in the eerie glow of the lichens and fungus caused me to squirm and shudder in ways I had forgotten since my earliest years. If King Avercrombie knew how close monsters lay to his realm, I doubt he would sleep as lightly as he seemed to. Hope seemed lost to me for I had run out of what meager ration of food I had managed to secure haphazardly on my flight from the palace. My fate seemed to be no less cruel the Brina's, and equal parts my own fault.

Then, when I had nearly decided to charge the next fearsome dweller of the deep I happened across, I heard from far ahead the sound of water falling. A great amount of it, no less. Approaching carefully lest I disturb the lair of whatever creature secured such a pool, I was greeted by increasing light. To my great surprise the distant thunder had become a veritable roar. Rounding a bend in the passage I beheld a great cavern with a recessed wall on the far side. Down this wall fell the great river that fed the noise that had drawn me there. The light was so bright it hurt my eyes there, though surely it was quite feeble by normal standards and my eyes merely adjusted to the dark. At the zenith of the falls a beam of sunlight plunged into the water, fragmenting and scattering across the cavern.

The rainbow created by the mist and the light was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. For a moment my heart was lifted, and thoughts of my tragedy left me. Then I noticed how difficult my path lay, for the wall was slick and several feet away from the hole in the ceiling of the chamber through which the water and light fell. Nonetheless, already buoyed, my spirits refused to leave me again. Falling back on my stubborn streak of pride, I pushed off at once.

It took me hours and no small amount of pain and blood loss to make my way up the 40 foot ascension to the ceiling, and perhaps another hour there to secure a way to escape the dank and slimy caverns below. I was blinded by the sunlight, even though it was nearly dusk by the time I emerged. The waterfall continued on above me, falling off of a cliff and into the depths to go whence I knew not where.

Around me was a small glade within a forest of mighty trees. A deer far off looked at me with its ears flattened for a moment before it took off, running deeper into the great oak and beech trees. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the ground and slept, unmindful of my safety.

I dreamt then, and they were dreams of terrible things. I saw a pale and seemingly bloodless James, grinning in death and surrounded by the splendor of rich vestments and gaudy decoration. He sat upon a dark throne made of cruelly forged iron, and beside him sitting upon the floor dressed like a concubine was Brina. Her skin was as I remembered it, though it seemed smoother and even more flawless. Including her throat, for in my dreams it was healed. James' gaze was filled with hatred, while Brina's was far more accusing. Both possessed eyes that seemed to glow with an inner fire.

I awoke then, covered in a cold sweat. Breathing hard, I looked around quickly, wondering if somehow Brina and James had come back from the dead and were stalking me. Instead I saw a host of animals. Wolves, bears, deer, squirrels, rabbits, owls, hawks, sparrows, and countless other species were gathered about the clearing, all watching me. I stood up slowly, making no threatening moves. My stomach grumbled loudly as I glanced at all of the wild game around me, reminding me that I had not eaten for a couple of days.

A man came out then from the trees, though I would have sworn he had not been there a moment before. He walked through the animals without concern, his face unseen within the hooded cowls of the brown robe that cloaked him. He came up to me and reached up to pull the hood back on his robe. He had a rugged countenance, with a flowing brown beard and mustache. His equally brown hair was long as well, though it seemed tended and not wild. His eyes were the most entrancing part of him, for they were a dark blue and pierced me as they looked at me. I felt lost for a moment as I met his gaze, then my inner self reared up and I forced myself to return his gaze with a strength bordering on belligerence.

"You are not of this world," He finally said to me. His tone was not judging but still somehow decisive.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to steer the encounter my way instead of his.

"Humans once called me Andryth. The elves call me Quikwind. Names matter little to me, call me what you wish."

"What is this place, Andryth?" I asked, wondering if perhaps things were finally beginning to go my way.

"This is the Irewood, one of the few old forests that still remember in the lands this far north. Only the Great Forest to the south has trees as old and with memories as sharp as those here. I watch over these woods and protect them and all who live here from harm." He turned away and began to walk away then, as though he had said enough.

"Wait!" I called out, stepping after him. "Can you tell me no more?"

He continued to walk as he spoke. "What more is there to know? You are unnatural to this place, this world. There is no place for you here. You must leave. Harm no thing under my care and you may leave as you wish."

The animals parted to allow us to pass, though they closed up ranks behind us and followed closely, as though they were an honor guard.

"How do I get out of here then?" I asked, bristling at his calm surliness.

"You will be guided."

I opened my mouth to say more but stopped in my tracks when I realized that he had just walked into the trunk of an oak tree. Instead of bouncing off, as I or anyone else I know would do, he had literally walked into it, as though the tree had sucked him inside of it. I turned about to look around, testing my eyes. All of the animals that had been trailing us were gone as well. I swooned for a moment, questioning my sanity and wondering if perhaps my hunger had caused me to imagine things. Then I saw the tracks on the ground from all of the myriad creatures that had been behind me. I felt a little bitter, though still miserably hungry and lost.

"Where are you, oh promised guide?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm and bitterness. No answer was forthcoming.

I glanced about then and guessed by the level of light that it was nearing dusk. I set about then to arrange a camp for myself. The temperature was pleasant but growing cooler. In the dead of night I suspected that it would be downright chilly where I was, and with only my fur lined cloak to protect myself over my leathers, I did not look forward to it. I had flint and steel with me though, so there was hope for a fire at least. I carried no axe for the chopping of wood, and my sword and dagger, while finely tuned for hewing flesh, were of little use against wood. Thus I set forth to gather fallen wood where it lay, thinking as I did so that perhaps this suited me better anyhow, as I was causing no harm to any of the trees here and thus not invoking the wrath of the druid, Andryth.

As a small boon, in my wandering I found a patch of ripe blueberries on a rocky hillside as the last of the suns rays slipped beneath the top edges of the forest. Feasting on them as though it was the finest meal I had eaten in days (it was), I began to feel a little better about my chances. When the spark caught in the deadwood and I had a warm and merry blaze to keep myself company throughout the night, I resolved to push ahead for a better tomorrow, regardless of my past misfortunes.

I had cared for Brina deeply. More deeply then I should have. The extent of that care I was uncertain of, however. Was it a camaraderie or a partnership or more of a sisterly bond. Or was it more still, that of a lover and mate? The last thought frightened me, for I refused to accept the possibility of even wanting a mate, be it of any gender or race. "Perhaps," I mused quietly to myself that night, "I am better off with Brina dead, as much by my own hand as any."

I slept soon then, convinced that the forest was safe. With the fire banked it kept me warm enough throughout the chilliest part of the night and was reduced to lukewarm embers by morning. My greatest surprise came from my new companion.

Standing over me stood a magnificent specimen of masculinity. Heavily muscled and gleaming in the early morning dew, I came to discover his name was Darion in the time that followed. Where his ridged and powerful looking stomach muscles ended fur began. The fur was a dark gray in color, and began the half of his physique I had seldom studied much, for I was only slightly familiar with the riding and tending of horses. He was a centaur, and apparently, my guide.

Darion spoke little to me throughout the next two days, only when he felt he must. Clearly he disliked me, though for what cause I had no idea. Perhaps centaurs possessed the ability to see a persons past, or perhaps that was merely a thought given to me by my latent guilt. Regardless, he shared his seemingly endless supply of nuts and berries that he carried in a pouch, and cool and clear water from a skin. The only other things he carried were a curved dagger near his waste, a bow across his back, and a quiver of flight arrows for the bow.

I thanked Darion when we reached the southern edge of the Irewood. I had been on my best behavior, doing my best to respect both the forest and my guide. Regardless he remained aloof. I considered asking him for a final meal before I left, but thought better of it for he clearly wished to be elsewhere.

I wandered south then, away from the forest and towards what I suspected was Elendar's southern border. Along the way my diet improved as I managed to snare a few rabbits and once even spirited away a farmers stray chicken. It took me a few weeks since I was avoiding any of the villages and cities along the way, but I was finally successful at reaching the border. However a great wall was in my way, patrolled by Elendarian guardsmen.

Hoping I had reached the southern borders ere news of my transgressions, I walked boldly through the gate. There I showed my SET badge to a sergeant and was offered all manner of courtesy. I secured a horse and some spare equipment, including some iron rations and water, and was on the road again without resting that very day. I found it both relieving and disconcerting that no word of James had reached the border keep as yet.

I came finally through trial and mishap to a port town by the name of Peltarch. It was one of the largest port towns south of Elendar for many leagues, and was a den of thievery and marketeering. I got away from there as quickly as I could, but not before I stumbled across a bar fight scene started by a man named Thorrik. I recognized him as a former sergeant of Elendar, then a SET agent. Of course, few people outside of Elendar knew of the existence of SET. To the scum of Peltarch, Thorrik was merely a thorn in their side. By the time I left the city, I began to notice wanted posters with his picture and description on them, offering upwards of a kings ransom of 20,000 gold for his capture, alive or dead. Seems he had made a mission out of his life to tweak the noses of Peltarch's nobles every chance he had.

Leaving Peltarch I made my way further to the south, where I heard of great ruins and a frontier type of living. I figured there I had a chance to earn a new way of life and escape the rut of my old one. Honest I might never be, but that did not mean I had to be a murderer and a thief. Well, at least not without a good reason.

I found what I sought in a small hamlet named Barovia. Far to the south, on the hottest of days it reminded me of a morning or evening on Brina's home world. That of course set me to remembering more of Brina, so I tried not to think about that. I still had dreams and nightmares about her and James as well. Sometimes they seemed so real that I felt as though they were searching for me or chasing after me. I suspected that it might be more then simply the work of a guilty conscience, but then thought better of it, for before I had never cared for anyone that I had killed, either directly or indirectly.

It was after a few months in Barovia, after I had begun to become accepted by the locals, when I had an opportunity to prove myself. Two boys had disappeared out hunting for food for their family while their father was busy tending the farm. The townsfolk were organizing search parties for them, though I personally held little hope for their survival. They had been missing for nearly two days by that time.

I set out on my own, explaining how I worked best alone with nobody else foiling up any tracks or getting in the way. This was accepted readily enough, for in Barovia I was just another trapper / furrier making her living as best she could. Nobody asked about a persons background in Barovia, for it seemed nearly everyone had one.

I got to the farm ahead of the rest of the townsfolk and tracked the boys out into the sparse woods nearby. From there I encountered other tracks. Tracks that I had trouble identifying, but finally decided they were humanoid, if a bit slurred and confused. Other tracks appeared to be that of wolves. I figured it to be a hunting party of men out with pet wolves, though I suppose orcs were more likely to accompany wolves the size of the ones the tracks indicated.

I followed immediately. I knew in my gut the children were already slain, but until I found signs of their demise, I had to proceed. The tracks led to the south, with the children's signs disappearing altogether. No doubt they were being carried. In no time the forest was left behind and the dry wasteland of the salt flats lay ahead of me. Tracking across a salt flat is all but impossible even for a trained and experienced ranger, let alone someone barely proficient in the skill. Nonetheless, I felt I knew where they were bound, for directly ahead in the distance I could just barely make out the shadow of the ruins of a once mighty city.

Daylight was fading by now. I had been on the chase for nearly five hours and had perhaps two left ere dusk. A chill crept down my spine for some unknown reason, but I felt my duty to these people I had chosen to try and make my own. I pushed forward then, thankful for the mountains to the west that would block the sunlight bearing down on me. In hindsight, sunlight might have been more preferable to the darkness that overcame me nearly 15 minutes before I reached the ruins.

Once in the ruins there was dust and sand enough to allow me to find the tracks of the mysterious kidnappers again. The tracks led me to the boys... by way of an ambush. The ruins were quite large and resembled buildings the type of which I had seen once before. They were similar to the ruined town of Guthmoor, on Acathia. It seemed I would never escape my past, for the future kept striving to bring it back to me.

It was thoroughly dark by then, with not even a faint bit of twilight from the sun in the west. The moon was risen a third of the way, however, and it was waning from full two nights past. Realizing that gave me the only warning I would have. I made the connection finally. A full moon two nights past, the same night the boys had disappeared. Tracks of both men and wolves. I was hunting were-beasts, though by now the hunter had become the hunted.

A musky animal smell wafted by my nose then, followed closely by the faint sound of claws scratching on stone. I spun around and ducked low just in time to avoid the snapping jaws of a wolf as it sailed over me. Well, partially over me, his hind quarters crashed into my shoulder and sent me stumbling to the side.

A growl from that direction had me skittering away, finally getting my sword and dirk in hand to defend myself. A wolf approached from that direction then, walking slowly and crouched, ready to spring. It snarled at me, spittle bubbling and drooling from it's mouth. I glanced around and saw a full five wolves surrounding me, each with a cruelly intelligent look in their eyes.

I have heard that chance favors the prepared mind. I was not prepared and they were, so I was determined to even the field a bit. I ran towards one, slashing out with my sword. The wolf sprang away, giving me an opening in the circle of teeth surrounding me. The other wolves yipped and came after me, but not in time to catch me before I leapt up to the top of a small dais where once a statue had apparently stood. I had gained a four foot height advantage on them, not nearly enough to thwart them, but enough to boost my odds.

They circled around me, occasionally darting towards me then backing away when they found my blades ready and waiting. A few times I was nearly taken by well timed attacks, but I always managed to fight them off. Several wolves now sported wounds from my magical blades which seemed to cause them a surprising amount of pain. The ones that were wounded regarded me warily, while the others simply approached me more carefully.

I killed them all, of course, otherwise I would not be able to tell this story. It was slow and fraught with peril though, and only after I luckily dispatched the first one with a thrown dagger did the others come close enough to allow me to meet out my brand of justice. Seeing one of their number down and me with only my shortsword, they all charged at me, nearly tripping over each other in their rush to get to me. I unsheathed the dagger given to me by King Avercrombie and noticed it fairly thrummed with power in my hand. It had not done that before, so I had no choice but to guess that it's magic enabled increased power when wielded against shape changers.

With the wolves dead or dying, I noticed how their bodies seemed to shimmer and contort, some more then others. When a few minutes had passed and I had caught my breath, all five of my slain enemies had partially reverted back to a humanoid form, some more then others. It was a rather unsettling sight, and I moved on quickly, checking myself carefully for wounds. I found only a few gouges from claws and one scrape and bruise from where I had landed on the dais a little less then gracefully. I knew from my studies with the Ornithrym that lycanthropism, the magical disease that infects men and causes them to change into animals at night, is transferred both via genetics in a more true and powerful form and also through the bite of an infected creature.

My cloak had some tears in it as well, but I was ready to go on and fight another day. Or at least another fight, since I was sure there were more of the werewolves around. I gathered my tossed dagger and returned the gift dagger to its concealed sheath in the small of my back.

I trekked on, trying to make sense of the tracks of the creatures. I followed them as best I could over the rubble of the ruins, ending up finally at what was a large building. It reeked of the musky scent of an animals den. I felt the dagger in the small of back radiating its magical energy as I got closer, warning me. I approached it carefully and was allowed to continue breathing because of that caution. The wolf defending the entrance of the lair missed me only by inches as I fell backwards. It landed on my chest though, and its claws dug painfully into my left arm and right breast. The wolves hind legs alternated tearing at my thighs and belly, raising welts under the tough leather armor that continued to protect me but risked a good shredding with each new assault. The wolves jaws and fetid breath snapped in my face, trying to go for my throat. Only my right arm grasping tightly about the wolves throat kept it from succeeding.

My sword and dagger had fallen somewhere nearby, making them unavailable to me. My left arm, pinned to the ground just below the shoulder by the wolves paw, was mobile enough to slip behind my back and once again draw the dagger from the King. I tried slashing at the wolf with it, but was unable to get enough leverage or distance with my arm to connect with the wolves furry torso. A great lance of fiery pain entered my body then, one of the wolf's hind legs had managed to hook just above my leather breeches and yank them down my leg part way, leaving four bloody furrows on my upper thigh.

I kicked upwards with my other leg, catching the wolf in the belly and genitals. I was pleased to note that the same assault works on males regardless of race or whether they go on two or four legs. The wolf yipped and backed off a bit, giving me enough of a chance to yank my arm out from under its paw and drive my dagger deep into its chest. The wolf staggered away, whimpering softly as its lifeblood bubbled out the ragged hole in its chest.

I sat there, breathing heavily and straining to listen for any signs of additional pursuit. I found my discarded weapons and regained my feet, yanking my torn and bloody pants back into proper place and favoring my wounded leg. Inside the lair I found another wolf standing guard over what appeared to be a pile of fabric or clothing or something. It was too dark in the building for me to be sure of what it was.

The wolf charged at me. I ducked under its lunge and laid its side open with my sword. It howled in pain and tried to scamper away. I followed it mercilessly, hacking into its head as it snapped at me. I turned towards whatever it was guarding as it lay quivering on the floor in death spasms.

It was indeed piles of clothing and equipment. Pots, pans, a few boxes and sacks, all manner of mundane gear that people would use for whatever utilitarian living purpose could be imagined. There was even some coins and weapons, the former I gathered up quickly while the latter I judged to be nothing out of the ordinary.

From there I studied the room more carefully. In the back, hidden in the shadows, was a passage leading deeper into the strange ruined building. I approached it slowly, ever mindful of the skill with which these creatures seemed able to hide themselves and launch a surprise attack with.

The passage went further then I needed to, for an open doorway on my right led into a room with some rubble piled off on my left side as I entered and some makeshift bedrolls scattered about the rest of it. It was in there that I found the two boys from Barovia. They were being cared for by a naked woman, not exactly the idea guardian. She sniffed wildly as I approached them, and then stood up to face me. She growled deep in her throat and bared her teeth at me. I could tell that she was one of the werewolves by the animalistic behavior, if not the thrumming power radiating from the dagger nestled against my back.

When she rushed towards me I noticed her face beginning to elongate and her fingers turning into wicked looking claws. She got in one swing with her fist / paw (which I slipped to the side of) before I retaliated, plunging my sword into her chest and driving my dagger into her mouth. I yanked my weapons free and let her slide to the floor, her body contorting itself into her death pose.

The boys were sleeping, though fitfully. They looked to be in fine shape, which surprised me greatly. I figured them for dinner for the pack of werewolves. I knelt next to them ready to wake them and have them follow me when I felt the dagger hum its warning. I spun around quickly, prepared for another surprise attack. Nothing was sneaking up on me though.

I turned back to the children, my stomach clenching. I pulled the dagger out and held it close to the boy. It glowed dimly in my hand and I could feel it vibrating with an inner wrath. I cursed softly. I held it near the other boy and achieved the same result. I examined the children more closely then, checking for wounds. Sure enough, on each of the calves was a mostly healed bite mark. They were not there for a meal, but to increase the pack.

To the best of my knowledge, there is no cure once the disease has set. Wolvesbane and other herbs are supposed to be able to fight it, but in that case, it was too late. I studied both children, one roughly 12 years old and the other 9. My hand quivered slightly as I clenched the dagger in fingers gone white. I glanced around one more time then spat out a muffled curse at whatever Gods were making my life as difficult as they were.

I stood up once the deed was done, blood dripping off the dagger. Turning towards the door I saw the first of the group of villagers that had reached the ruins staring in open mouthed shock at me. Two more stood behind him and others were in the hallway trying to get a look.

I opened my mouth to explain, realizing what the scene might look like to them. Any of my words were lost in the screaming that began. Roars of outrage and challenge assailed me as the posse surged forward. I was going to throw down my dagger and explain myself but I realized I would have no chance. The father of the children was in the lead, his great sword drawn and a murderous fury in his eyes.

I turned and ran, heading towards the rubble strewn side of the room. Above the fallen rubble was a small hole opening to another room. I jumped up and caught it with my hand then pulled myself through. Dropping into the next room, I found a window that led outside. I was outside and slipping quietly away from the building before any of them saw me leave. Then the inevitable happened. One of the guards left outside the werewolves lair spotted me and called out, thinking that I was still a friend and not a foe.

What choice did I have? I ran. The ruins were dark, the moon behind a cloud at the time. A faint wind had sprung up, just enough to add an extra bit of chill to the night. Heat still radiated off of the ground, but the earth had nearly given up what it had absorbed during the day already.

I slipped between ruined buildings, taking the toughest courses possible and knowing that I could navigate them far easier then my pursuers. This worked well for me until I came to a dead end. What had once been a doorway into a building had fallen into such a state of disrepair that the open doorway was filled from within by fallen rubble. I looked back behind me to see if I had time enough to slip back out and into another passage. My hopes were dashed as I heard them began to round the corner.

I felt a strange peace come over me then. I marveled at the lucid moment and realized that I had forgotten something very important. My mind.

I was still uncertain of the scope or extent of my powers, but I did remember a couple of things that I had filched out of Keeden's mind. I calmed myself still further and gave thought to cloaking myself. I realized the only way I could do it would be to contact the mind of each and every one of my pursuers and trick them into not seeing me. Something I would be unable to do given the time, let alone the complexity of trying to deal with so many different minds at once.

About to give up again, a new thought entered my mind. Ahead of me was a ruined wall of a building, some twenty feet up to a roof filled with holes. On my right was a taller building, and to my left a nearly vertical wall of rubble. I was a good climber and a strong girl, given my size, but with the pack of villagers on my heels, I would be unable to scale the wall fast enough as I was.

I concentrated then on making myself lighter. I envisioned the same effect that the buffoon of an elven wizard had cast on us, making us both light as feathers. I forced myself to believe that my body weighed no more then a few pebbles and felt myself growing lighter as I did so. My time was limited, so I wasted no more time to further the effect. As it was I probably had reduced my weight to less then one half of what I normally weigh.

I leapt up at the wall, sailing nearly halfway up it in a single bound! I scrambled to find a purchase against it, as I had gone much higher then I expected too. Another leap upwards took me to the roof, which was falling apart and lousy with holes where the weather had broken through it. With my reduced weight it was easy to negotiate. I ran lightly across it and was safely hidden from view by the time the villagers came upon the cul-de-sac.

"Where'd she go?" I heard one of the men asked, breathing heavily.

"I know she came down here, how could she get away? That rubble would fall apart with anyone climbing it!" Another one said.

"Did you see the look in her eyes or the dagger in her hand? It had the mark of the Dark One, I tell ya!" A third said, reaching for an explanation. I scowled from my hiding spot. My dagger had the Elendarian royal crest on its hilt!

"Come Karum, 'tis a fey night and all of us fools for sending a witch out where men should have gone!"

Karum, the father of the kidnapped children nodded, unseen to me. He glared about a bit more before he let his grief catch up to him and override his anger. Head bowed, he stalked off to gather up the bodies of his children. The others followed after him, and I remained hidden until I heard no more sound of their pursuit. I got up then and found that my full weight had returned as I had long since stopped concentrating on the effect.

My sadness over the boys fate was forgotten in the light of my discovery. It was a shame about them, but the living go on living and the dead do not grow any deader. I carefully made my way back down the wall and set out to explore the ruins further. It seemed that life for me amongst my own people was forever doomed to failure. Perhaps I was destined instead to live the life of a hermit.

Continued in Chapter 2

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