Gilleana's Tale -- Volume 2

[Jezerai]

     The first weeks in the Freeport baby camp were hard.  They assigned me a name and beat me when I stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.  Even the meager meals they provided, I missed most nights for my willful disobedience.  Scrawny, bruised and defiant, no one thought I'd make it.  Then I met Sebyl, another stolen from her home to be raised as Freeport battle fodder.  Sebyl taught me to comply outwardly and hold my memories close to my heart, so I would never forget where I came from.  She taught me how to remember who I was so that I could have a future.  After that, things went better.  I responded when they called me their Freeport name.  I did the tasks that were assigned to me.  But every night I repeated the names of my family to myself, Missa, Willow, and Alastair.  But most of all, I chanted my name, holding it tight as a mantra so that I would not lose me. 

     I also repeated the names of my family's killers, at least those that I had ever learned.   There were five: Sandar, Jubaal, Morticet, Farnovar, and Captain Sutar.  Young I may have been, but old enough to plot revenge.   None of us Qeynosians was expected to live through very many battles so we were provided only rudimentary training in the baby camp.  Early on I demonstrated a talent for fighting with a sword.  I was trained in these arts and became a shadowknight.  Sebyl was a healer, and we tried to keep close together.  We kept each other alive during those early battles, while our companions dropped off one by one.  Most of these battles were fought close to Freeport, the orcs and undead are prolific there.  Then Sebyl was assigned to another unit and I lost track of her.  I do not know where she may be or even if she may still be surviving, somewhere.  I grieve her loss and her name has been added to my nightly litany.  In any event, I did not die.  I became a model for how well captured Qeynosians could serve Lucan.  I rose through the ranks, eventually leaving behind the stigma of my Qeynosian birth and being admitted into the ranks of the regular forces.  In time I was able to locate Captain Sutar and obtained a posting to his unit. 

     It was twelve years since he destroyed my life, but he had not changed much.  A bit the worse for wear.  A new scar across his face.  I blessed fortune that he had survived that slash, so that he could meet his fate at my hands.  I had changed a great deal, and there really was nothing left of the frightened five year old he had snatched away, at least outwardly.  I was given my posting and settled myself in, unobtrusively, among the others in the unit.  I wanted revenge, but I did not seek execution.  If death came to me, it would.  But I planned to live on.  I had long ago given up any dream of returning to Qeynos.  I was a shadowknight.  While I did not love Lucan, my life was shaped by him.  I planned to advance as a shadowknight and to make my way as best as I could in Freeport.  There was nothing for me in Qeynos, or so I believed.

     I bided my time.  I kept myself to myself and did not make friends, but I performed my tasks well and gained recognition.  I was promoted to officer on the battlefield when I saved Captain Sutar's life.  He made me his bodyguard, charged with his protection on the field.  He came to depend on me.  Many days we fought together, many victories we shared, and many nights we drank ourselves insensible as comrades in arms.  If you are a senior officer, you can gain promotion by challenging your commander to a duel.  If you win, the Freeport military considers the commanding officer as being too weak to carry on and you are given his title.  It is a formal duel, however, with strict rules for who may challenge and the manner in which the challenge may be placed.  When I reached the level required to qualify for advancement in this way, I issued my formal challenge to Captain Sutar.  I could read the disbelief in his eyes.  He had thought me his friend, at least as much as any in his position own. 

     I was better than the captain.  I had studied his fighting style for years and knew his weaknesses.  I made sure that the preceding night he went to bed early and was well-rested.  This was not murder, but honorable revenge.  As we fought I whispered the names of my slaughtered loved ones.  The names meant nothing to him, but I felt the presence of their spirits with me.  My sword sang and I bested the slayer of my family.  As he died, I reminded him of who I was: Gilleana, the first day I had uttered that name aloud for many years.  That day I took for myself the surname, Swordancer, so that I would never forget the sweetness of my revenge.

[Jezerai]

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