Name: Reyl Taolan
Age: Thirties-ish?
Gender: Male
Place of birth: A farm between Taren Ferry and Baerlon.
Occupation: Caravan guard. Tavern Bouncer. Odd jobs. Farmhand.
Hair color: brown
Eye color: brown
Height: average
Build: beer gut
These Dreams Go On When I Close My Eyes, Every Second of the Night, I Live Another Life (a short story)
My arms came down and, with a clang, the hoe hit a rock buried in the dirt. I was standing in a field under a blazing sun. I looked around. The surroundings weren’t familiar but it felt right, like I belonged there. I…those weren’t my hands.
The ground began to rumble and I looked toward the north. A dust cloud was coming into sight, a black band at the bottom. I turned and ran. These actions were not mine. I wanted to know what was coming.
I raced into the village, yelling. I couldn’t place my accent. The villagers began to stream out, to the west.
Twenty of us, give or take a few. We hid behind buildings with bows and farming tools. I was breathing heavily, listening to the rumble get closer. I could hear the yells, the swashing of swords on bucklers. I stepped around the corner and my mind froze. My mind, not whoever’s this was. Arrows flew and men fell. I didn’t recognize the clothing but a word came through the haze: Safer.
Safer? Safer than what? Nothing about this felt safe. No, Safer was a place. They had come east to expand their borders to include this land. My land.
I heard the crunch of a boot behind me. I turned and felt the crunch of a mace in my skull.
—----------------------------
I was sitting on a boulder, holding some kind of meat wrap. I was chewing? I wasn’t in control of my chewing. But, I could taste and it was wonderful. I was like a spectator that could feel, smell, and taste. Soon enough, the wrap was gone and I was picking up a pickaxe.
A bluebird whistle cut the crisp air. My head swung to the south. Toward…the waygate? I knew, apparently, this was a dangerous stretch of the mountain range. I also knew the best course of action would be to retreat. I didn’t, and neither did my companions. Covered in dust and layers of sweat, we entered the treeline.
I saw the horns first. Like a ram’s, peeking up over a boulder. Then the rest of the hairy head with beady eyes. I, or whoever this was, was not a fighter, but the strength and the will were there. The pickaxe lodged in the trolloc’s skull. A whisper of movement. A black blur. The sting along the arm, the right side of the ribcage.
The raiding party was small, not even close to a fist, but the myrrdraal made things complicated. The trollocs died and the eyeless fled. We won the day, but my wounds festered quickly.
—-----------------------------
“Push!”
The call was unnecessary, yet, somehow necessary. A call for any sort of forward movement to accompany the press of our spears against the stinking mass of hair and animal features.
“We just need to hold until our allies show. Tar Valon would not abandon us.” Through gritted teeth, Minkar, to my right, voiced his hopes.
The river to the left guarded our flank as did the swamp to our right. The flow of battle was like waves upon the shore. We’d push, our spearwall driving the Shadow’s forces back. Then we would lose momentum against their superior numbers and draw back. But were we the ocean or the sand? We had just given ground, letting their lines loosen, and now we were pushing through. The clouds of ravens overhead created a perpetual twilight.
“Los Valdar Cuebiyari!”
Minkar and I both turned, looking for the Heart Guard. Looking for King Aemon. Something rammed into me from behind and drove me down into the mud. Everything went black and the weight upon me only increased. My lungs burned as my mouth and nose filled with vile muck.
—---------------------------
Reyl woke, violently pulling air into his lungs. A grumble to his left. Snoring to his right. He was in Baerlon. A shared room with the other caravan guards.
Los Valdar Cuebiyari. He knew those words. “Damn.”
As the sun began to lighten the sky, he sought out the caravan leader, a merchant from Kandor.
“I wish I wasn’t passing up on the pay. I have to get to Emond’s Field. If things don’t work out, I hope to catch you on the return.”
Reyl began walking down the North Road. He had debated ignoring the memories of other men and continuing a simple life of drink and hired muscle. The dream might have faded but the swell of pride in his heart had not. Each of those men had died honored to shed his blood on the soil of Manetheren. He couldn’t dismiss the hold loyalty had taken upon him.