Yamara

The grin turned to a scowl. "Me not gonna let dat boat stay here free!"

"No no no," Evart said, gesturing with his hands. "I mean I find myself feeling charitable, I am willing to give you my boat for free."

The troll frowned, an odd gesture on such a large and bestial face. "Nuthin free in Trollhome, an dat boat not gonna stay here free!"

Evart sighed. I rolled my eyes. He had told me these trolls were intelligent. Well, I suppose most trolls had trouble doing more then grunting, so he had a few notches on them.

"Troll," I said, trying to disguise my voice and make it sound more masculine. "You are right, my guide is wrong to fool you so, you have seen through his tricks. The boat is yours for two gold pieces."

A smug look appeared on the trolls face. He laughed, which was a frightening sound. "Rocktooth not stupid, me not gonna pay dat much!"

Evart looked at me questioningly, almost as though he thought I was mad. I ignored him and nodded to the troll. "Very well then, you drive a hard bargain. Let it not be said that the trolls of Trollhome are shrewd. A single gold piece for the boat, that is half the price to store it, a bargain to be had."

The troll nodded thoughtfully for a few long moments. Finally he grinned, convinced he had the better of us and fished around in his belt pouch. A handful of ten silver coins later and we were hurrying away from the dock with both of us trying hard not to laugh.

"I thought these trolls were smart?" I asked, shaking my head in amazement.

"Well, individuals may vary," Evart admitted.

Still laughing quietly to ourselves, I let Evart lead me through the dock section of Trollhome and into the interior. All along the way we saw various merchants of various races. Their wares varied from unidentifiable foods to (even worse) identifiable foods to weapons of all makes and sizes to other outlandish things. Such a wide variety I had never seen in one place, it seemed that Trollhome truly was a melting pot of cultures, though I was certain nearly everything available was either stolen or taken from the dead hands of its prior owner.

Before long I saw my first ogre of Trollhome. Normally ogres are big and dumb. That is to say, almost as dumb as the average troll but at least 2 or 3 feet larger. These ogres lacked nothing for size, but like the trolls, their wardrobe was considerably better then I had expected. Studded leather jerkins, bracers and greaves, and weapons that appeared to be very well maintained. The sloping brow most ogres proudly displayed was lacking as well, these ogres actually looked like they could count... and not just their fingers and toes.

Trollhome was divided into sections for defense. The overall layout of the city was very secure. Each section of the city was separated by walls, with the roadways joining them easily secured via heavy gates. We had passed through two of them until we came across the main market of the town. If I was surprised at the vendors we had already passed, then I was amazed at what the market had to offer.

Slaves (of both genders and almost any race imaginable), foods, more weapons and tools, various alcohols and drugs, boys and girls of varying ages for acts of pleasure, potions and oils their vendors claimed were magical, "ancient" maps to hidden treasures, books (both mundane and supposedly magical), and virtually anything else a person could hope to find or hope to never see available.

"I was shocked the first time I came through here too," Evart said quietly to me, hearing the catch in my breath. "The merchants have to disclose what they are selling to the city's clerk, though the city does not care, then they are charged a tax based upon the value of the item the city has assigned to it. The tax is fairly low and the merchants do not mind paying it in most cases. After all, where else could they get this kind of exposure for most of their goods?"

I nodded thoughtfully. The merchants themselves were almost as varied as their wares. Here and there were orcs and half orcs, an occasional goblin or kobold, several humans, scattered lizardmen, and more then a few trolls and ogres as well. On the far side of the market I could just make out a fire giant selling some items. A fire giant! I shook my head to clear it and just followed Evart as he wound his way through the busy marketplace.

He stopped finally at a booth where a man had a small pen behind him. Within it were a few ponies and horses, as well as a few other mounts that reminded me of my time spent on Acathia. Giant lizards the size of a saddle with saddles on them, as well as a few oxen and even a horse-like beast with some large humps on its back. Having no idea what Evart was up to, I stayed slightly behind him and kept my senses opened and in tuned to the crowd around me. A place like this was surely prone to draw thieves and pick pockets.

Evart spent several minutes haggling with the dark skinned human. When they finally reached an agreeable price Evart went back with one of the boys, probably the merchants sons, and retrieved two horses. They saddled them up and led them over to where I still stood.

"We have mounts," Evart said, the boy handing me the reigns to the one he led. I nodded and took them.

"We're being watched," I told him quietly, walking beside him away from the booth.

"Not surprising in this place, everybody wants to know everybody else's business, or at least be able to convince them to come over and buy from them."

"No," I told him. "Not so simple, there are three people, a half-orc, a havrin, and a goblin. They are keeping an eye on us, one or two at a time, then one will disappear for a while to make it seem coincidental."

Evart grunted, casually glancing about over the next few minutes to try and observe them. I had to hand it to him, he did a good job of not drawing suspicion to himself. That probably came from years of working for the S.E.T. down in the pit of evil that Mardurin represented. Finally he nodded as though he was thinking about something. He pushed on, forcing me to follow him again.

We stopped at a few more booths so that we could buy some food, which I had considerable concerns about, then Evart also purchased a broadsword to replace the one he had lost in the swamp. Realizing this may be my one and only chance to do so, I stepped up to the weapon venders booth he was at and surveyed his wares.

"How much?" I asked him, picking up a long bladed dirk that looked like it would serve me well. I then saw a group of four specially weighted throwing daggers and knew that I had to have them as well. "And those," I said, gesturing towards them.

The ogre merchant set a price and we began haggling. I was surprised quickly at the ogre's shrewdness. He did not resemble the troll at the docks, but instead was well able to keep track of the conversation. My first attempt to outwit him nearly ended with him refusing to do business with me, in fact. In the end, I paid a little more then I had hoped too, but was pleased nonetheless to be able to fill my empty sheath and to also have some throwing knives to boot.

By the time we were finished with the market and ready to press on, the sun was deep in the western sky. Mindful of the trio watchers, I suspected the worst. "Let us press on tonight," I said to Evart. I was hardly afraid of them, but wanted to cause no trouble inside a city that was filled with such creatures as this was.

"Aye, there are a couple of hours of light left to ride by," Evart agreed with me without questioning my reasoning.

And so we set out. The guards at the northern gate of Trollhome gave us no trouble, they simply ignored us as we made our way out. We mounted our horses and went north along the path that was slowly but steadily raising towards the mountains that marked the border of Palungol. As I gazed at the mountains my mouth and threat suddenly felt dry. My destination was getting closer and I was not sure if I dreaded it or anticipated it. That I felt considerable anxiety was certain to me.

Needless to say, I was introspective that night and kept mostly to myself. I forced myself to once again play the events through my mind as I knew them to have happened. The fact that James needed to be destroyed remained a constant within my head and my heart, but knowing that Brina was with him made me falter. Was I ready to face her again, after all that had happened? If she had not escaped him and sought me out since that hateful day, would she want to see me?

My questions went unanswered. Far from being further worried about them, however, I found myself instead reacting to that nagging itch in the back of my head. Maybe it was carelessness on the part of the attackers or maybe it was my rarely ever worked on sixth sense. Regardless, I was jumping to my feet and spinning around with a throwing dagger in each hand. Unknown to me, my abrupt rotation had caused a crossbow bolt that had been fired at me to narrowly miss me and cut through the air behind my back instead.

The goblin came first. He leapt over a log, a well cared for battle axe gripped in both his hands. I threw both of my daggers at him, changing his snarl to a wide eyed look of fear. It was justified, for both daggers imbedded themselves in his chest to the hilt.

Evart had readied himself by this time, not reacting until the first sign of trouble. For him that first sign was my sudden movement. Only now was he narrowing his search to the goblin, which had collapsed to the ground and was trying to pull the lung piercing daggers out of his chest. Evart's new broadsword cleared its scabbard and he readied himself for what was sure to come next.

And come next it did. The half-orc slipped almost noiselessly into the firelight of our campfire. Only by keeping aware of his surroundings did Evart happen to notice the would-be assassin. He wheeled on him in time to bat aside a skillful thrust of the half-orc's longsword. He returned the lunge with a swipe, being defeated by the parry from the half-orc. Battle was joined in full force between the two.

The human came at the same time, but I was prepared for him. He stepped into the firelight on the opposite side of the camp from the half-orc, completing the triangle the goblin had started. Had it not been for the goblin's premature attack, we would have been sorely pressed by the three. As it was, I had my shortsword and trusty dagger in hand. He advanced slowly, knowing his surprise was ruined. I lowered my shortsword and held my dagger high, presenting what appeared to be a poorly defended target.

The half-orc was actually taller and stronger then Evart, but Evart's skill and cunning was greater. I only heard a few clangs as steel rang on steel, then the unmistakable sound of metal cleaving into flesh, followed by a grunt of pain. I could only hope the wound was for the best. From the curse the man in front of me muttered under his breath, I assumed such was the case.

Dimly, on some subconscious level, I heard the click of a crossbow release. It did not register until half a second later when I felt a sudden sting on my upper arm. The sting was followed by a sudden blossom of fiery pain and made me cry out at the suddenness of it. The man jumped at his chance and beat down at me with his scimitar, driving me to my knees as I blocked the heavy curved blade with my short sword. The fingers on my left hand, suddenly numb, let my dagger slip free from their grasp. My head swam with the pain and the shock in my arm, distracting me in spite of years of discipline. I wanted it to stop and I was very nearly willing to do anything to achieve that end. The part that frightened me the most was that it had only just started!

Evart came to my rescue. He leapt over me and lashed out at the man attacking me. The man growled at Evart and parried his first few attacks. Then he launched a series of his own. Finding himself unable to beat through Evart's defenses right away, he scowled and thumbed the onyx that was seated in a ring he had twisted around backwards on his finger. Instantly a cloud of blackness rapidly swelled up and around him like smoke. In seconds all three of us were blinded. For fear of striking me, Evart crouched low and held his sword defensively in front of him, I did likewise with my shortsword, though it drooped low as I struggled against the waves of agony emanating from my arm.

No attack came. When the odorless black smoke dispersed a few moments later there was no sign of the man. Evart glanced about nervously, noting that the half-orc and goblin were missing as well, though both had been dealt mortal wounds. Evart cursed and turned back to me. He sheathed his sword and knelt next to me, examining my wound. I looked to his face, searching for an answer in his expression as he studied me. I saw only puzzlement on his face.

"'Tis a scratch, Yamara," he said, still looking puzzled.

I glanced down at it, turning slowly so that the firelight augmented what little daylight remained to help me see it. The cut was just above my elbow on the outside edge of it. The bolt that had scored me had a broadhead instead of a point on it, but as he said, the wound was slight. Already though it was angry and red, and as I reached to touch it with my other hand it burned with an inner heat.

I knew the answer already, but it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. "Poison," I said, my voice raspy and dry.

Evart nodded thoughtfully. He grabbed my arm roughly and took out a curved dagger. I looked at him, alarmed. When he made no move but instead gave me a questioning look, I nodded to him. Two quick swipes and he had scored an "x" over the wound. Like a snakebite, he took it in his mouth to suck out the poison. His eyes widened the instant his lips touched my arm and he staggered backwards, spitting forcefully.

I looked at him, clearly surprised. The pain had begun to slowly lessen, or maybe I had grown used to it, I was not sure. Regardless, I stared in surprise at the wound. In spite of the three cuts in my arm, no blood showed at the surface. It was angry and red from inside, and nearly seemed to glow with the ferocity of it, but nothing dripped from it.

Evart touched his lips with his fingers, wincing in pain and pulling them away. A quick glance at his face showed that blisters were forming on his lips.

"I have never seen anything like this!" Evart said, clearly at a loss for what to do. I nodded, equally confused and frustrated. The pain had lessened enough by now to allow me to think a little more clearly by now though.

Seizing upon an idea, I reached into my magical pouch and called forth one of my precious few remaining potions of healing. I pulled the cork out with my teeth and spat it upon the ground, fearing myself in mortal danger if I waited any longer. I drained it without taking a breath, nearly choking myself on the slightly amber liquid. I took a few shuddering breaths as the magic of the potion raced through my body. When it swept through my arm I felt it slow and then a battle began within my body. It was very nearly terrifying to me, this concern that my fate might be out of my hand.

Suddenly there was a powerful release within my arm, exploding through my body in a rush. My senses were swept away with it and I knew only blackness then. As my consciousness fled I heard, as though from a great distance, the ghostly echoing of a horse galloping away.

Chapter 9

I dreamt. The dreams were figments and shadows and altogether unholy. Dark shapes reaching for me from the depths of I knew not where. They grasped at my body, trying to pull me down but I fought against them, unable to clearly see any of them but knowing they were there by the cold feel of their hands on my body and their none to gentle tugging. Then the shadows stopped and drew back away from me. From the gloom that surrounded me in my subconscious hell a figure emerged to face me.

It was a man. More a boy then a man, I doubted he needed to shave to keep his chin clean. He looked at me and I sensed a distinct familiarity to him, though I could not place him. Some of my surroundings became visible for a moment, and I saw that I stood in a deserted alley upon dusty ground that was hard baked dirt. Then the alley vanished and I was once again alone in the dark with the boy, who seemed to glow with an internal light. I felt myself moving towards him, of no volition of my own, and as I grew closer I felt a great fear outside of me. That the fear did not come from within me caused my own fear to rise. I did not understand what was happening, I could only watch. I had no power to act, speak, or even think for myself it seemed.

The boy was in my arms then, He fought back suddenly, his youthful strength valiant but unable to stop me. In seconds he was stiff with terror and no longer offering any resistance. He stared at me with fearful recognition in his eyes, then I descended upon him. I bit into his neck, taking no care at the delicate nature of his skin. My teeth, sharper then they possibly could have been, easily knifed through his skin and artery. The hot liquid pulsed into my mouth, filling me with its salty metallic taste. I struggled within myself, trying to put a stop to the nightmare.

In minutes that seemed to last only seconds the young man died in my arms. I let him fall to the ground then and looked down at myself. My blouse was covered in his blood. My hands dripped it into the darkness below my feet. The corpse was gone, disappeared as though it had never been. Everything faded from me then, everything but the feelings. The rush of excitement. The feelings of power. The joy I felt at the taking of the boys life. He had been only a few years younger then I, but knowing how easily I had dispatched him brought an elated feeling into me. I did now know if the feelings were my own or someone else's. They felt alien to me, yet alluring and comfortable as well. Then I descended into darkness again.

I arose from the depths of my nightmarish slumber several times, though instead of arising to wakefulness, I returned to the surreal dreams. Each one was violent and terrifying, yet equally arousing and exciting. I grew more and more confused with each one, and more and more terrified as an explanation began to form in the back of my mind. While the first had been a vampiric dream, none other had been anything like it. They all involved the claiming of what appeared to be innocent lives, but the methods varied. All were personal and disturbing, more so as they felt so fulfilling in an alien way.

My final dream was undeniably my own. It took place in Brina's room in the palace with myself, Brina, and James in our fateful confrontation. I saw the fight take place and watched it unfold with a critical eye. Then realization dropped on me, I was not watching it as I should be. I saw myself and James fighting! The person I did not see was Brina. I was Brina. It was undeniably not my own!

The pillow came up and James' sword cleared it from his field of view. My sword crashed into his, slamming it out of his hand. It happened in slow motion now, my dagger reaching out propelled by my lunging hand and stabbing into his shoulder. I tried to scream. I tried to call out and beg for them to stop. Then I realized I was not the one trying to do this, but Brina was. Or more accurately, both of us were trying to make it stop, but I was just a passenger in this memory she was sharing with me somehow.

James pulled back away from me and closer to Brina, who was also me at the moment. I felt Brina's confusion, felt her want to shrink away and hide from him. I could feel his fear and his anger. Before Brina could move he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to him. I felt the pain as her hair tugged loose of her skull at points, yet most remained and drew her to him. Then the cold steel at her throat, rasping harshly against her so soft and delicate skin.