Evvi’s Journal
My uncle Yaman gave me this journal so that I may record the trials of life ‘to make me stronger.’ Words make you strong. Metal in the hand makes you strong. Fear makes you weak. When he handed it to me the dirt on my parent’s grave was still damp. Years have passed and much has changed. I am stronger. Stronger than my mother, Mawiyah would have guessed. My name has changed hands and tongues countless times. Now, they call me Evvi. My true name stays locked away in a place I will never give out. For when my body is shattered and spirit broken I will still have my name for only me. I will not even write it here. I hear a scratch at the window that is no dog. Enough. I
I have survived slavery. The band of my most recent abductors did not. It has been around seven years of the darkest misery at the hands of the scum of Dunland, years of dirty faces and forced labors have left me with a sweltering rage. I found you, my little leather journal, stashed away in the group chieftain’s tent. He had used it to mark the inventory of stolen goods. I have ripped those defiled pages from your leather binding. Together we will forever hold the scars. It was foolish of them to teach me ways to heal. One of their own should have served as medic. For the other side of healing is poison. In becoming what they wanted the past three years they were oblivious of knowing I planned for their slow deaths. The water supply was easy to poison, too easy, the idiots. My most treasured moment was when I stood before them, the last light in their eyes fading, and declared it was I, that had brought about their doom. Before I burn their corpses, I will collect what I can travel with, a horse, some of the most valuable pieces, and the best of the daggers. I will spit upon their graves. Enough.
My travels have brought me north. I have met a man. He calls me his friend and love. I do not call him the same. The wounds that I found him with in the forest could have killed him. I saved him life. His life debt to me has not yet been paid. We do not stay in any place too long. It has been months that we have traveled together and shared a bedroll. He has many uses to me and I plan to keep by him for the time. Enough.
My man has been taken from me. I know not if he is dead or alive. I know not where he could be. At first I thought he had abandoned me in the night. Yet, at dawn I found the battle sight where he fought off his attackers and from the tracks he lead them away from me. Men. Many men. The tracks all end in the great river. I have followed the banks of the river for days on each side and have not found another trace of these men. Maybe the water claimed them all. Maybe he is now a slave as I once was. Maybe … I… Enough.
I have spent some time in the prisons of this northern land. It has been years since my man was taken from me. I have not found a trace of him. He would find it amusing that the locals get angry when you try to borrow their horses. The guard is thick. It will not take long to seduce him into giving me the keys to my cell with the way he looks at me. It is too easy to play the part of a poor misguided twit and seems all too easy for lusty men to believe any tale I spin. I will write again when I am once again sleeping under the stars. Enough.
I have found a small trading town to the west that tempts be back again and again. Bree is centered around a large hill and has travelers coming and going often. It is large enough to remain nameless and small enough to have easy escape routes. I would not call it home but it will do for now. I have met a few young brothers that seem eager to listen to what I have to say. I have a few jobs that they can help me complete. Enough.
