Outcast of Vaain

Past the forests of Ma’ar, past the tall peaks of Bu’taka and the plains of the Ghu’tak raiders, lay the acropolis of Vaain, the last city of the ancient Vasar race. Legends passed down told of the race’s former glory, at one point, an empire that held the entire world. A great war against the evil lord Xahto left their race near extinction and the enemy were only defeated with the help of Elvish crusaders from across the mountains. The remaining Vasar were forced to take their residence inside the great walled city. The stronghold was nearly impenetrable; the outer wall stood six meters tall, and the inner wall stood at 7 meters high. None of the living Vasar had ever seen the outside world, such was their creed and destiny. The city was immense in itself, with a citadel at it’s center, the residence of the Judges, descendants of the original five kings of the once enormous Vasar empire. It had become their culture to be separated from the outside; even questioning about the world beyond was a punishable offense. So the people lived here in peace, going about their small lives, never seeking anything more.

And it is here that the true story of the world of Deska begins. For within this forsaken kingdom that Valka was born. His parents died when he was less than a year of age, and he was a wanderer, surviving off of the generosity of the people. He grew to eighteen in this way, and sought entrance into the Royal Guards of Vaain. He was denied; the Guard was an honorable position and he was but a homeless orphan. So, he was forced to return to his life of wandering.

Valka awoke in the inn where he had been allowed to sleep recently. Dreams had kept him from deep sleep and he was still quite tired. Visions of great mountains and thick forests had danced in his head and though he had seen nothing of these things, or even thought they could be possible, they enticed him even deeper. His head swum as he stood and gathered his meager possessions into his small tattered bag. He thanked the innkeeper and stepped out into the sunlight. It was early, and the people were just starting to bustle about the city. His normal routine had him moving in vain attempt to find work throughout the city, usually asking over and over at the same stores and farms to no avail. The Vasar were a prideful race; to let one without a family would be a curse and disgrace to their business. So he wandered day by day, growing older, and, with each day, growing farther away from any hope. Today, his mind still misty from the dreams and lack of real sleep, he decided to just explore. He slung his bag over his back and went out into the city.

The markets ended after a mile of walking and he found himself in the middle city, an area of houses and small farms. The people were attending to their small personal fields and their farm animals. Valka’s eyes wandered over them. He slipped into a dreamy state again. “How can they be so content with so much in the world out there? They could see so much, but they see so little.” He thought to himself. He was jerked back to reality as he almost ran into someone. He apologized, got a glare, and continued on. Time passed as he walked down the old roads, many of them since the war without being fixed completely. The journey brought him to the outer fields where the main food and water supplies came from. A river ran through the walls and into the city, then back out again. He stopped at the curve of the river and drank some water. It was cool and refreshing and brought him to full awareness. He had traveled close to the walls by now. He crossed the small bridge and continued to the wall. There was no gate; no one left the city, or entered the city. Within a short time, he had reached the inner wall, and atop the wall were the two Guards that kept watch over the outer wall. The guards station was pointless, as the Elves had kept peace here for hundreds of years. He stared up at the sky in wonderment. The light flushed over his face and he could feel the breath of life flow over him. There was nothing left to do. He was leaving the city.

He sat by the river for a while, as the sun traced across the sky and burned his face with bright, unfiltered light. And he stared, pondering how he could escape. Those guards would see him for sure, besides there was no gate to begin with. He stared into the river that reflected his silver hair, the mark of his people, and his dirt smeared face. He traced it to the wall. There, a hole in the wall with no grate. His salvation. He stood and darted for the wall. The washed his face with the cold crisp waters of the river and dried himself with an old dirty rag he kept. The river was not wide, at most ten feet, but it was icy cold and at least up to his waist. He looked up over the wall to make sure the guards had not spotted him and slid into the river. It chilled him deeply and he had to lunge under the porthole in the wall. He managed to make it to the other side, and pulled himself out of the water and onto the grass. The sun warmed him now and he laid on the grass for a few moments, catching his breath. He stood, gathered his courage, and darted for the gate. He quickly regretted this. The guards saw him almost immediately and yelled down at him.

“You there! Halt! What are you doing out here boy? How did you get past the wall?!”

He did not answer. There was nothing he could say to save himself now. The guards were down in seconds, their spears pointed at him.

“What’s going on? Don’t you know this is forbidden!? They’ll have your head for this!”

“This gate...raise it. I’m departing from this city

“Haha, have you gone completely mad, kid? We’re armed and you’re just an orphan outcast!”

Valka snapped. The spear in the guard’s hand was there loosely from his laughing. Valka grabbed it and turned it on him. With one full thrust, he impaled the guard and pushed him back into the wall. The guard screamed in anguish. Valka pulled the spear forcefully from the corpse. The other was still stunned at this sudden move and the butt of the spear caught him in the face and he stumbled backwards, bleeding. He turned to run. The anger dropped from Valka and he dropped the spear. The guard sprinted away up the wall and into the city. Valka fell to his knees. He went to the body of the guard and felt where he had impaled him. The blood dripped freely from the wound. He stared at the blood on his hands and cried, “Let this be the mark of my damnation! A life for a life, let the heretic die.”

He washed his hands in the river and turned back to the guard. There was no life left for him here. There was nowhere left to turn.

“Valka, you have spilled the blood of your brethren, defamed a Guard, crossed the border, and defiled our covenant. You should be killed brutally, but such is not our policy. You sought to escape, then escape you shall. You are outcast, banished from Vaain forever. If you return, you will be killed. Go. Let us forget your crimes. The Judges have spoken.”

Valka bowed his head in a half mourn and left the palace. Roars of disgust rose from the people as he passed by, escorted by two guards. Rocks were thrown and people attacked him as he walked the long path to the gate. Valka was given his bag, and a sword. With the Judges watching from the walls, he was thrown out the gate, and it slammed shut behind him. He turned his head. He was the first Vasar in a thousand years to see the outside of the grand city of Vaain. Valka turned his back on his home, and walked on.

Author’s Note’s This story is copyright © 2005-3005 to me.