Chapter 1 Yheith

Yheith’s eyes tore open, the setting sun’s rays flooding through the window temporarily blinding him.  He pushed himself up on one elbow, his sweat drenched body rasping for breath from icy lungs.  He ran a trembling hand across his forehead and pressed fingers to his eyes, trying to suppress the residual images of the dream that always lingered. The dreams had been recurring for as long as he could remember, not nightly, but seemingly increasing in frequency.

He willed himself to become calmer, controlling his breaths with practiced effort until they became noticeably easier. Lying back down on the pillows, he allowed himself a stretch. Doing so, his gaze fell upon the form of the woman whose bed he shared. He studied the brown hair, disarrayed over the pretty face so calm and relaxed in sleep.  Bright lips in their perpetual pout surrounded by faint freckles added to her child like charm. 

“You are a prize, my dear” Yheith whispered as he watched the gentle rise and fall of her sheet-enshrouded chest, and traced his finger down her neck to where the silk sheets met with naked flesh, taking delight in the slight smile that replaced her pout as the light touch caused her to stir ever so briefly. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Enjoy your dreams my sweet Clarisse”

He slid out of the large bed, slowly as not to awaken the sleeping maiden next to him.  He gathered the clothes so carelessly thrown about the room in the heat of passion just a scant few hours before.

Clarisse’s bedroom was bright in pastel silks from all ends of the country, adorning the walls and windows, an almost garish attempt at decoration.  The bed itself was a massive thing made of Deep Mahogany from the forest far to the north, carved with fabled fairy beings, the mattress and pillows overstuffed with soft feathers and covered by silken sheets.On the far wall across from the bed stood a large wardrobe, literally overflowing with dresses of finery befitting those of the highest stations of court. Next to the cabinet stood Clarisse's vanity, cluttered with perfumes, pigments and powders, tools she skillfully used to subtly enhance her youthful appearance. 

Searching through the drawers, he opened one on the left and ran his fingers through the fine silk scarves that were contained within.  He pulled out a bright blue one with Clarisse's initials monogrammed in a pale powder blue of one corner.  He let it slide between his fingers, appreciating its softness, than tied it about his neck, tucking the ends into his shirt; another momentum of their shared love.

Turning to the window side of the room, he viewed another large wardrobe that stood in orderly contrast to Clarisse’s chaos of color and texture. Yheith strode over and with a quick turn of the latch, opened it to gaze upon several uniforms, immaculately cleaned and spaced apart in perfect military precision. Several small drawers lined the left side of the cabinet and it was in one of these that he removed a set of silver cuff links emblazoned with the captain's insignia. “Ah, these will serve just fine as proof of the day,” he quietly mused. He slid them into a pocket and continued his half hearted search. A grin spread across his face as in another drawer he found a small belt pouch that, when lifted, gave off the pleasingly familiar sound of coin. "Ah, this month's rent is paid!" he said to air as he tied the pouch to an inner pocket of his shirt.

“You shouldn’t be in there,” Clarisse purred lazily.

“I shouldn’t be here at all” he replied, closing the wardrobe doors and turning.

“You haven’t taken anything else, have you? Manella is still looking for the broach I let you take last time.”

“Of course not,” he said, returning to the bed and retrieving his rapier, absently caressing the hilt.

“What are you doing? You don’t have to leave yet, do you?”

Yheith turned back toward the window, and seeing the sun was nearly set, sighed at the prospect of having to leave the lovely Clarisse behind.  “Unfortunately, it is almost time for Manella to return. As he is your husband and, more importantly, Captain of the Guard, I believe it most prudent not to be present when he does return.”

Clarisse sat up, letting the silk sheets fall from naked breasts. “Oh, let him catch us, I am tired of always sneaking around.”

“He would kill us both!”

“Let him, I can’t stand the thought of his icy hands touching me again. I would rather be dead than separated from you.”

“My dear, he hasn’t touched you in many long months. Besides, I could never keep you surrounded by such luxury,” he said waving his hands to the room.

Clarisse sat and pouted a moment before a sly smile played on her lips, “what if you were to best him? You’ve told me you’re good with that steel you wear at your waist. If you were to best him, I would be entitled to all this and as his grieving widow I would get a nice income from the guard, more than enough to keep us both happy for a very long time.”

Yheith smiled, “A fetching proposition, though that would be quite a challenge, your husband is a very good swordsman.”

 “After a short mourning period, you and I could be together, forever, without ever having to hide our love again,” she purred.

“Except I do believe murdering the Captain of the Guard would carry a fairly stiff penalty.”

Clarisse smiled slyly, slid out of bed, and donned a flimsy robe. Yheith felt intoxicated by her beauty, ready to consider whatever plot she may have just to remain with her. She bent down and pulled a bundle out from under the bed. Unwrapping it in a flourish she said excitedly “you could wear these.” She held up an exquisite black cape with midnight blue lining and black embroidery, and a matching half face party mask.  

Yheith looked from Clarisse to the package and back to Clarisse again. A twinge of fear set the hairs of his neck on end. Manella was not just a good swordsman, he was renowned for his abilities. Although he did not question his own luck, it was not that which he feared. It was the darkening realization that this was not a passing thought of hers; Clarisse was serious.

“Try them on,” she said, coming around the bed to stand beside him, holding the cape and mask up.

Yheith took the cape and slid it over his shoulders. It was a good fit and felt light on his shoulders. He absently stroked the fine satin texture of the cloth.

“Here, now this.” She handed him the mask.

He fit the mask over the bridge of his sharp nose and adjusted the eye slits before bringing the rest of the material over the ringlets of his brown hair. He had never worn a mask such as this and it took a couple tries to tie it loosely at the back of his head and still be able to see out. Yheith drew his rapier and assumed what he felt to be a dashing pose.

“Oh, you do make a fine rogue,” Clarisse exclaimed.

Yheith grinned and gently pushed Clarisse back onto the bed. “A rogue, am I?” He set the point of his rapier to her smooth throat, “then perhaps I should steal a kiss.” He moved the rapier down her neckline to her cleavage, “or perhaps I should enjoy other spoils.” 

            The door to the bedchamber opened. Yheith looked up and locked his brown eyes with the steel blue eyes of a man dressed in a blue uniform, insignia identifying him as the Captain of the Guard. The man was easily twice Clarisse's age, with graying black hair cropped short above solid features. Manella was a man who showed little emotion, so the surprise on Yheith’s face was not mirrored on his own.

The older and larger man closed the door behind him, effectively cutting off escape. “A thief, in my own house?” The question rumbled forth, like rolling thunder.

Yheith noticed the large hand straying to the saber strapped to the man’s side.  There was no doubt of Manella's intentions. He smiled sheepishly, "Pardon me sir, I seem to have stumbled upon the wrong home."

No reaction, Manella slowly withdrew the saber from its scabbard, his expression almost bored.  Yheith's mind was calculating possibilities, he could stand and fight, but a rapier against a saber in the hands of a master swordsman would be like rolling dice with only one cube, you could not possibly win. He could rush and overpower him, had Manella not outweighed him by easily more than sixty pounds. Manella started forward.

Yheith had only one course of action left.  The cape still hung loosely about his shoulders, so with a flourish he pulled his cape off and threw it at his approaching attacker. The cape sailed across the room and Manella moved to bat it away with his sword, but the expensive cloth encircled the sword and half of the man. Yheith quickly slid his rapier into the scabbard and stepped to the window

He frowned at the sounds of a servant calling to the guards.  Outside the window a narrow ledge, not more than a hands width wide, jutted out from the building and ran its length.  A few feet from the house a tall oak grew, several branches reached up to a level nearly even to the second story window. Yheith wondered if he would be able to make the jump, but had no time to consider as Manella disentangled himself from the cape and started coming again.

Clarisse, whom had sat unmoving, looked to her husband and than over to the window where Yheith stood, suddenly jumped up wrapped her arms around her husband, impeding his progress. “Thank the One you are here,” she sobbed, “I was so frightened.”

Yheith took advantage of Clarisse’s cunning and skillfully moved out the window. He turned to Manella just as Clarisse was being forcefully thrown to the bed. “Again, I beg your pardon, but I am afraid I must take my leave of your hospitality.” He smiled at the man who was raising his saber once more and crossing the floor.

Yheith gingerly continued out on to the ledge with the confidence and dexterity of a cat.  He had always had an affinity for minor acrobatics and trusted in his balance.  He edged his way to the southeast corner of the building where he knew there conveniently awaited an ivy covered trellis.  He reached out to grab a rung of the trellis and began his swing down only to discover his hands fell upon vines and leaves but no trellis.  His heart jumped to his throat as the thin vines broke and pulled away from the wall sending him down the thirty-foot drop to hard ground.

As best he could, he grabbed at the vines trying to slow his decent long enough to get his feet against the wall and push himself off and away.  He twisted in the air and dove for the nearest limb of the oak.  His hands stretched, he grasped for the limb and overshot his aim. When he did catch the branch, it was with his midriff and not his hands. All the air exited his lungs in one loud “Humph.”

He clung to the branch, feeling the pain in his stomach expand up his chest and into his head, blackness threatened and he grew dizzy looking upon the remaining twenty or so feet still below him.  He closed his eyes, trying to will the pain and vertigo away, slowly regaining his breath.

He heard orders shouted from the window that had been his escape route.  He could here answering shouts come from somewhere else ground level.  He wondered vaguely again if he should wait and take his chances with Manella and his house guards, than as if in answer to his unspoken question he heard the snapping sound of breaking wood issuing from the limb.  He groaned as, with a jerk, the branch broke, sending him falling and bouncing off another limb, wincing in pain as his arm was torn open by a snag.  He fell to the ground, letting out a groan as he landed on his back.  What little air that had been replaced in his lungs was again pushed from his body in one quick breath.

  Dazedly, he looked back to the window, but the loosely fitting mask had slipped over his eyes. He pulled the cloth from his face in time to see Manella ducking back in.  Good, a few seconds to rest before he gets here, Yheith thought. He stared up into the tree, spying the shape of a bird that somehow resembled his idea of the Myatra of death.  He tried looking deeper into the shadows, but the pain in his head was disturbing his concentration, he thought the Myatra was barking.

Such an odd sound, he thought, since when does the Myatra bark like a dog?  A cold chill ran down his spine as he tried to sit up, his senses returning in the grip of fear as he realized what barked like a dog; Manella had war dogs!  Yheith jumped to his feet, his head swimming, bright fireflies of light assaulting his vision as he collected his bearings. He was in the southern corner of a small garden, this end primarily populated with oaks that led in a straight line to the very edges of the garden.

"Yheith!" Clarisse's voice rang from the window above, "the dogs will rip you to pieces. You must run, my pet"

He turned to face the window, looking up to her pretty face "for you my dear, I would gladly face the hounds of hell.” The barking grew louder, “but I know I am not worthy and so I will flee to return at a much more hospitable  time."

Around the east side of the house, Manella marched into view, saber drawn, and blood in his eyes.  At the same moment, from around the west side of the house, three of his prized war beasts led by a portly guard came into view.

"Our afternoons love will never leave my heart" he sang and blew Clarisse a kiss, "nor will ours" he yelled to Manella, and blew him a teasing kiss as well.

Yheith turned to run for the far end of the garden as Manella gave an irate command. "Release the hounds!"

The dogs, straining against their leashes in anticipation of the hunt, hindered the guard from releasing them to their prey. Yheith made it thirty paces or so by the time the guard had the dogs off their chains.

He felt the strength return to his limbs as he ran for his life.  Another twenty paces and he could hear their growls as they came on and he chanced a glance back to see they had closed half the distance.

He turned the corner at the end of the garden and literally ran over a shocked member of Manella's house guard.  The closed gates that were his portal to freedom were a mere forty paces away. He risked another glance behind him, fear lancing his heart like a spear of ice as he saw the beasts nearly upon him.  He ran headlong for the gates, silently wondering if he could possibly make it before the beasts caught up to him and took him down like a deer fallen prey to hungry wolves.

Another thirty paces and he could hear their panting at his heels.  He ran with a renewed vigor; ten more paces had the hounds snapping at his pants. After another short sprint, he dove for the gate.  The dogs, jaws snapping, jumped at the same time, one finding a purchase on his right calf, sinking its teeth in his flesh.  Yheith knew if he stopped, the others would be on him.  Holding on to the gate, he kicked the dog in the head with his free foot, causing it to release its hold.  Ignoring the pain, he pulled himself up hand over hand to straddle the gate.  There he paused, looking down at the dogs that were working themselves into a frenzy trying to jump the fifteen feet to the top of the iron fence. One of the dogs still held a shred of Yheith’s pants in its slavering jaws. He spat on the dog.

He looked out over the courtyard and saw Manella was half way across. "Another time, perhaps" he shouted to the captain, smiling.  He reached down to gain a purchase to descend the gate, and missed the top rail as he felt a tug at his left shoulder.  Now what, he wondered as he frantically tried to regain his balance.  As he fell the full height of the gate to the cobblestone below, he saw the fletched shaft of a crossbow bolt protruding from his shoulder.  Again, he found himself on the ground, in pain, looking up at the sky.  He told himself he could be thankful that at least he landed on the opposite side of the gate from the howling war dogs. He shook the cobwebs from his mind, rose, and began limping with as much speed as he could muster down the lane. "Not tonight" he shouted through gritted, yet grinning teeth. He was sure the black Myatra of death must be hovering close by; sure it was disappointed at its loss.

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Manella stared out the gate at the small pool of blood on the cobblestone.  He was unaccustomed to losing his prey.  The guard that had been leading the hounds came up to gather the beasts, berating them, "stupid mongrels, you're getting fat and slow.  Cut your portions, I will, and take the strap to ye if need be."

"You blame the dogs?" Manella questioned, "They are in top shape, perfect hunting beasts."

The guard faltered, not used to being directly spoken to by the captain "well, uh, sir… that is, you seen them, they almost had 'em, just, uh, to slow, getting soft…"

"They are not slow; perhaps your girth kept you from releasing them quick enough. Perhaps I should cut your portions. Perhaps I should take the strap to you?"

"Oh, n-no sir, I was going as quick as I could. You leave it to me sir, I'll see to it we don't fail you again"

"You do that, or perhaps their next meal will be your last." Manella turned, not waiting on a reply, and headed back for the house.

Still thinking on the man that escaped, Manella mused, that fellow is a lucky one…and defiant! I could use men like him under my command. Pity he must be dealt with, he sighed.  Now Clarisse, how to deal with her…