Story: The List

[Darren Tereos]

“Angellis said I should write things down.” Dayari sat in a back room of the Gallow's End Tavern. “I forget things, he says. I should write things down so I don't forget, he says.”

Dayari Antarios looked at the crumbling blank scroll and ink before him. “I remember I never used to be able to write.”

Putting bony-hand to quill and quill to paper, Dayari started to write.

I was told to bring gold from underground and trees from wood...no, wood from trees. It was the commanders of the Second War that told me to do so. More work...every day; I think I was young, a fresh-faced boy, sent off to bring the petty needed things for the war effort.

We were fighting Orcs, but not like the ones I know. These were bloodthirsty savages...I can appreciate that. Killing things without remorse has its worth. Better than being killed, at least. Anyone would agree to it, though in moderation.

“Wait, where was I?” Dayari looked out the window while a spider crawled quickly over his hand. “Oh yes, the boots.”

The boots were always being worn through from the walking and the trudging. My skin first grew tan, then cracked from the long days. And the commanders, they gave no peace, not to anyone but themselves. I never even saw one on the front lines. But, did they lend a hand? Never. Instead, each brief moment savored between work was quickly spoiled by new commands to fix a guard tower, help build a farm, or go find a new source of wood or gold.

“Did I ever see an Orc?” Dayari stopped writing. The Sun set.

The first Orc I saw was in the last days of a small encampment near to Southshore. The Orcs had overpowered the guards and fell about the camp with a frenzy I had never seen before. It seemed like time to retreat, but instead the order came: “Shore up the ramparts!” Well, we did what we were told and vainly tried to keep the place from being ripped to pieces. Axes and fire rained about us, I'd have been dead, dead a lot earlier, if it weren't for the comrade who fell on top of me. Small as I was, I must have been hidden from the Orcs.

Dayari put the quill down and stopped. He tried to massage his temples, then stopped, realizing he couldn't really feel the effects of the gesture. Dayari placed his hands on the table, sighed, and stood up. Quickly, Dayari leaned over the paper and wrote one last note:

I like Orcs now; they're not nearly as frightening as other things I've seen. But that wasn't for a long time later.

[Mahre]

A great start to what I hope will be the continuing story of Dayari!