After unpacking their small meals, the men sat together on a rock looking out at the view of the brief expanse of foothills beyond, and past them, the flat nothing of a world they had not seen in a year.
They ate mostly in silence, only making short remarks about nothing really worth talking about. Only their familiar refrain of “For Tan Torna Qu-ay!” when they raised their drinks to each other seemed to break the silence noticeably. Though their love for their home was sometimes in question, it was still their home. They’d started many adventures and meals with those same words.
The return to Tan Torna Qu-ay was only a few days away and they each had a million thoughts to organize before they returned. The secret find remained hidden.
“Any bets on who else left on their quest while we were gone?”
“I’ll bet Esgona and his little tag-along did. He was so upset that we left first,” the secretive man replied.
A nod in agreement. Esgona and his best friend-nay-bootlick Hogope were almost certain to be away. Esgona was the son of the First Lady of the Council. A fact he was keen on repeating to all who would listen. Nimble and strong, his ego was almost as big as his worldview was small. These two in particular had suffered his wrath since infancy, and the fact that his mother was so powerful in their world created a firestorm of pomp and bravado.
And as every leader needs a lackey, Hogope was as dutiful a friend as he was a blindly loyal manservant. He was quick to align with someone whose aspirations of power were more in line with his own: fast, unyielding, and plenty of it. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize what his real role was in the relationship: sidekick.
Soon their ridicule would be unwarranted as they returned home. Johan Otan'co was a man of both wit and misfortune. He was an outsider from the day he was born and treated as an inferior form of life. He developed a keen mind to accompany his life-hardened physical prowess. His father, in his early years, had left for his journey into manhood only to return after two seasons. His arm was broken badly and eventually needed to be amputated, and he was severely dehydrated. He begged to be readmitted to the village, knowing that doing so would mark him for life as a frail and embarrassing quitter. His shame would be passed down to each of his progeny until one had completed the quest. Johan was adamant about making it a very short list of successors to attempt it. Soon both his and his father’s names would be cleared, although his father had died ten years prior to his leaving, as did his mother a short time later. His maternal grandparents had raised him from then on, shamed by their burden of a disgraced and dishonored grandchild.
How sweet it would be. So many seasons of ridicule and shame were about to end. He was bigger, stronger, and far tougher of mind and body than the lanky, wavy-haired, dark-skinned child that had left Tan Torna Qu-ay a year ago. He had seen life, death, and all points between in that time. Now he looked forward to smashing the cold truth of his triumph straight into the faces of all those who had spurned him. Esgona and Hogope were high on that list to be sure.
His secretive companion, Aryu O'Lung'Singh, was by far the worse off. Even without his curse, he would have been an outsider. His family came to Tan Torna Qu-ay when he was a baby, seeking to escape his assured death at the hands of others.
He looked different, with pale skin and light brown hair, eyes as green as grass, and a face and body far too thin and gaunt to be a local. Long arms and a hard, wiry frame made him stand a full head above anyone else in the village, and he was thin enough to look malnourished despite how much he ate. As shameful as it is to say, children (and sadly, parents as well) were always quick to pounce on one so unlike themselves. His parents knew this place and its customs. No matter how different one was from another, every child had a chance to prove their worth, either as a servant or successor to the quest. It was long ago discovered here that on paper appearance does not denote heart, since heart is a rare commodity in this barren world.
Children can be so cruel. Over the past year, in many discussions on the topic, it was agreed that even returning successfully would likely do little to change everyone’s minds about Aryu. They would be much quieter and more polite about it, but someone so different would need more to appease the masses. Tradition is grand, but rarely does it change minds overnight. Indeed, tradition is generally what put their minds in that state in the first place. Tradition and stereotypes go hand-in-hand.
Setting aside the obvious differences, the one that was the most glaring was the one
