The Tale of Outh'n Durr

Chapter 4: Banished

Outh'n should've known. Tugansol wasn't listening to his prayers lately. His sudden hope must have come from the desperate need for relief, the unrelenting assault on his temples and eyes. Surely, that accounted for his stupidity.

The council, with stringent urging from the Senya who sided with him, determined he didn't deserve to die. No. Instead he'd been doomed to the life of a wanderer, a tiav'yag. Once he was branded with the mark of a traitor on his left cheek, none could fail to see his shame. The broken circle would be evidence to all of his failure to remain loyal to his people and to Tugansol.

Outh'n finally accepted that he might never understand why he was forced to be the scapegoat. A tiav'yag had no home in Shinnoah. There was only one thing wanderers could do — walk.

"You must work your way south to Mt. Charan," Bazhbet had urged him as he walked Outh'n to the border of Prichud. "Seth Yi'in will guide you, once you show your mettle." A raw chuckled emanated from the man's chest. "He's a funny little man, for certain. Tugansol chose a strange Guardian for our people."

Outh'n had stared at him, confused. "You're sending me to Tugansol's servant?" At the Senya's nod, he asked, "Why? Tugansol hasn't heard my prayers for a long time." He hung his head. "Why would the Breath of Life show care for me now? My own village hates me." He glared up at Bazhbet and insisted, "I just can't believe the Holy One cares at all."

The Senya was silent so long, Outh'n fidgited and dug into the earth with the toe of his boot. When he finally spoke, Bazhbet startled the youngling with his rough whisper.

"Outh'n Durr, never doubt that Tugansol has spared your life for a reason. There is something you must do and only you will be able to complete this task. It is also apparent to me and anyone else with eyes that you won't be able to accomplish that task if you stay in Prichud. Otherwise," he shrugged and grinned like a wuveia on the hunt, "we both know the verdict would have been much different."

After thinking over the man's words, Outh'n nodded reluctantly. He wasn't sure he believed Tugansol had spared him from much. The life of a tiav'yag was the most difficult one which existed in Shinnoah. He'd only seen a wanderer once. The people had thrown rotten food and hurled harsher insults than he had ever received. That day, he'd been thankful Tugansol had at least spared him that humiliation. In the end, the woman had fled his village, her shrieking curses echoing like the harsh cries of the mountain-dwelling whe'evet.

Outh'n shook his head again. "As you say, Senya," he mumbled and rolled his eyes, resulting in sending a shooting pain back through his head. "Eiya," he groaned when Bazhbet flicked Outh'n's right temple. The glare he directed at the man resulted in a rich chuckle.

But Bazhbet wasn't unkind. "You may think this is no great thing Tugansol has allowed. But I promise you, while there is life, hope remains."

"Hope for what, Senya?" Outh'n threw up his hands. "My family home is the only safe haven I know, the only place I was assured of love and kindness. And now, because of an accident I had nothing to do with, the people who have taken away everything else in my life have barred me from the one thing I thought I'd never lose. How can you say there's hope?" His eyes burned, his anger fueled with sorrow. Red-tinged eyes zeroed in on the Senya. He was aware his behavior was no way to thank this rescuer. Neither did he want the Senya to hate him like everyone else. But it was hard to look with favor upon the messenger of such dire news.

"Come," Bazhbet urged him toward a wooden bench near the path. "Come and sit with me for a moment." The faint music of glashiin wind singers clinked in the distance. He grinned in spite of the gloomy future ahead of him and wondered if the chime was one of his. "Something amuses you, Outh'n Durr?"

Outh'n nodded. "They hate me so much. I still don't know why. It can't all be because of this." He gestured toward his lazy eye, turning it away from Bazhbet as he continued. "But they buy my glashiin work. All of them. They don't know it, of course, but every one of them has something I made. They paid me, and a pretty shinma, too. So, yes, that amuses me, Senya." He ran one hand through his hair, spiking it, and chuckled wryly. "The only down side is that I'll never see their faces when they find out."

"You work with glashiin?" Wonder colored his question.

Outh'n nodded. "My yuend'a said I would be able to get a job with the Hatw'n guild."

Bazhbet whistled and shook his head. When Outh'n didn't speak again, he said, "Well, that won't happen now, but at least you have the skill. You could find it useful."

"How?" Outh'n threw up his hands in frustration. "How will I earn money for the tools and supplies I need? I have nothing, Senya. And my parents have only enough to feed themselves and Ailyin. I can't and won't ask for their help. They've done enough, endured more than they should've for me." He rose and stretched, thankful that he didn't have to go back to the dark hole they'd kept him in before his trial.

"Yes, we must continue." Bazhbet also rose. "You'll need to say goodbye to your family."

Outh'n eyed the Senya, one eyebrow raised. "How is that possible, Senya? And why are you even talking to me now? Hasn't my punishment been set?"

The Senya nodded. "It has. But just because you are branded a tiav'yag, that's no reason for me to treat you as less than human. People choose to treat the wanderers as they will. No laws are set to protect them, but neither are there laws to prohibit kindness toward them. The brand simply means you won't find it as easy to settle into a home or find a way to earn your keep. Everything that was hard before, will be harder still for you."

Outh'n stared at Bazhbet's solemn but gentle eyes, finally nodding resolutely. "I understand, Senya. I must somehow learn to charm others, a skill, it seems, I've lacked from the dawning of my birth." He grimaced. "You make things sound so easy."

"Come on, youngling. We both have long trails to travel."

Outh'n would have trudged but villagers cowered in the shadows of buildings and trees along the path. If it wasn't for Bazhbet, they certainly would have taken his life. Yes, his sentence could have been worse but, by the Holy Breath! He couldn't see how death was worse than never seeing the people who loved him again.