The Tale of Outh'n Durr

Chapter 2: Imprisoned

Darkness surrounded Outh'n when he woke and his head pounded from the jolt to wakefulness. Cold, hard dirt made an uncomfortable bed beneath him. He lay still, puzzled for a moment, before sitting up in realization. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him as he grabbed his head with both hands and groaned. They'd thrown him in the village kaila to await the judgment of the council. He moaned in sorrow and pain.

Scrabbling and scratching emanated from the shadows and he called out, "Who's there?" The raspy whisper was so unlike his usual voice, had he not felt the raw vibration in his throat, he would've looked for another person.

"Outh'n? You're awake?" The whisper was faint but he thought it must be his seistri.

"What are you doing here, Ailyin? It's dangerous. Go home." He tried to sound gruff but his throbbing headache weakened the effect.

"The better question is why are you here," she murmured, ignoring his command. "I can't leave you here alone at a time like this," she hissed. A metallic tink sounded from the barred door of his cell. "Besides, Moyri sent you some food. The council forbade it but you know how Moyri is when it comes to you."

Outh'n allowed one corner of his mouth to rise in a sad half-grin. She couldn't see it anyway. "Moyri's not the only one, it seems."

A soft chuckle warmed his heart. "I'll leave this by the door then. I can't reach much further than that."

"How long have I been here?"

"A dawning and a nighting."

Outh'n's eyebrows rose. "So long?"

"There's some argument as to whether Alanyn's fall was accidental or not. They're still arguing at the gathering hall." A soft snort directed Outh'n toward the door to his prison and he began the torturous trek toward sustenance. The scent of Moyri's baked sweet buns and roasted meat hit him suddenly. His stomach growled, urging him to hurry should the guard return and snatch it.

"Outh'n," Ailyin's voice trembled, "what will we do if they determine it wasn't an accident? You could be killed." The grate rattled thinly. She must have reached through but Outh'n's vision was still not as clear as it should be. Having only one good eye, and that one still blurry, hampered him more than his crooked eye ever had. How hard had Kurg'l hit him?

"I can't see you, Kailyin," he murmured as he stretched one hand toward the sound of her voice. Small, thin fingers, cold and clammy, grasped his long, calloused ones and he tightened his grip. "I don't know what will happen. No one but Tugansol does, and the Giver of Life seems bent on taking mine away." He hated the bitter edge which was ruining his attempt to soothe Ailyin's worry.

"Don't talk that way about Tugansol. You will certainly bring holy wrath down upon you, and maybe on the rest of your family who loves you." She abruptly released his hand. "Did you do what they're accusing you of? Is this why you are so certain of a guilty verdict?"

He shook his head instinctively and groaned as his wound reminded him viciously of its presence. "I did not," he whispered brokenly. "Alanyn was my only friend. I would never, never hurt her Ailyin. Never. How could you even ask that?"

Moyri's sweet bun turned to ashes in his suddenly dry mouth. He could barely swallow the hard lump. Resolute, he pushed past the discomfort and forced it down, knowing it could be his last meal.

Outh'n heard the brush of braids against clothing as Ailyin nodded. "I believe you. I know Moyri believes in your innocence. Babeiya speaks for you even now."

"What are you not telling me?" he asked at her hesitant pause.

"They are the only ones on your side, Outh'n." Urgency sped up her words and Outh'n had to work hard to understand her rushed whispers. "Kurg'l and Deil'n both speak against you along with their parents. Alanyn's babei also speaks fervently against you, swearing on Tugansol's life-giving breath, though the rest of the Senya didn't like that at all."

"You'd better go back," Outh'n swallowed hard. All hope really was lost then. "Go quickly before the guard finds you here. Take this," he passed the cloth which had wrapped the meager meal back through the grate. "Give Moyri my thanks for sending my favorite sweet buns. Tell both her and Babeiya I love them and thank them for me, please." When she took the cloth, he added, "Ailyin, thank you. I love you, Seistri."

"Don't give up, my Brudei," she urged as her skirts rustled. "Tugansol cannot be ready to call you to Zoleta already."

"Perhaps you're right." He refused to tell her he expected to be sent to Surteit instead, to be tortured with pain and darkness for all eternity. "Go now, before you are missed."

The soft scuff of boot-clad feet on dirt faded into the distance much like Outh'n's hope of justice.

*****

"Outh'n?" The sweet sound rang in his ears. "Outh'n where are you? Won't you come out and talk?" He hesitated. He'd heard such urgings before and they'd gained him only pain and humiliation when he dared to hope.

"I promise," the melodious voice continued, "I'm not like them. I don't like how they treat you. Please, come out."

Silence filled the green meadow until the birds once again took up their songs. Thinking she'd left, Outh'n crept out of hiding.

"There you are!"

Her sudden words startled him and he spun too quickly, losing his balance and tumbling over into a heap. She giggled. He grimaced, expecting to hear more jeers and laughter at his expense. A quick scan of the area showed she was truly alone. He marveled at the fact that someone wanted to talk to him and offered him truthful words of reassurance. He'd lived for ten tsimikin. For most of them, he had tried in vain to make friends in his small village. Had his patience finally been rewarded? Had Tugansol answered his prayers? He hardly dared to hope.

"Greetings!" A small girl perched atop a boulder. Her golden-brown curls spilled from beneath her triangular kyrch and glinted in the suns' rays. "My name's Alanyn."

"I'm Outh'n," he said stupidly, then ducked his chin as heat flooded his neck and cheeks. She knew that. She'd called him by name.

She covered her mouth with her hands and giggled. "I know. I called out for you, remember?"

He nodded, struck mute by her obvious merriment.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Hiding."

"Why?"

"You know why."

She shook her head. "I know you hide from the others and I don't blame you. I'm new here but I saw what they did to you the day my family came to this village. What I mean is, why aren't you doing something you enjoy?"

"They won't let me do those things if they find me." He shook his head in disgust. "And if by some miracle I actually complete a piece and they find me, they smash my work and it's all for nothing."

Tears pooled in her brilliant blue eyes. The breeze picked up and she attempted to shove the wayward curls back from her face. When neither the gust nor her curls obeyed, she ignored them to say, "I'm so sorry, Outh'n. We'll find a way for you to have some fun. I'll help you."

That was how it had begun, his friendship with Alanyn. He'd thought to ask her to bond with him one dawning. With the acceptance of his apprenticeship, the time had loomed nearer. Now that hope was dashed as easily and ruined as completely as his early glashiin artwork attempts had been all those tsimikin ago. It was hard to believe seven tsimikin had passed since then.

A tear rolled unchecked down his cheek, followed by another, then another. He didn't even bother to wipe them away. What did it matter? Tugansol had finally given up on him. He'd be dead soon and no one would care but his parents and seistri.