The Old City

0.56: Outcast Wolf

"Go where you are wanted. Not where you are needed."

– Old Shiorahn Proverb

Horn of Koryone, fifteen years ago.

I am too big for this.

Firkaan reached deeper into the shaft, desperately trying to flip the lever at the bottom of the hole. A dozen kids jeered at him. They didn't believe he could do it either.

But Firkaan was never one to shy away from a challenge, especially when everyone depended on him.

He squirmed a little further down the hole, dangling now, and tucked his broad shoulders in to create space. Someone from the crowd ran up and grabbed his feet. The lever was just at his fingertip. The cold steel didn't want to move.

"Push me a little further!" he called. The echo of his voice, bouncing off the cylinder below, came shouting back to him. He felt pressure against his feet and slid a little further down. His middle finger had just enough grip now, and he flicked the lever back.

A series of groans and clicks began to stir deep underground, magnified in the shaft. He was certain the individual sounds were quiet, but the collection, coming from all around and crashing upon his ears, sounded like a sandstorm.

"You can pull me up now!"

He waited for someone to grab his ankles. When nobody came, he shouted louder. "I flipped the switch! Pull me up!"

Again, nobody came.

"HELLO!?" He bellowed now and swung his legs. Surely someone was up there...able to help. He pressed his hands against the slick exterior and tried to shimmy his legs up and out. But he was too heavy.

Then he felt a small tug at his ankle. It wasn't much, but someone was there. Someone was trying to help him.

"Grip both ankles and pull again on three," Firkaan shouted. "One. Two! THREE!"

Small hands gripped each of his legs and pulled, desperate. Firkaan pushed against the shaft and tried to gain leverage over the top. His knees finally slipped over the ledge. It was enough to build momentum. He swayed, hitching one leg back at a time. A few inches later, he released his right arm and reached up to grab the lip of the column.

That was enough to pull himself all the way out. He landed on the sand bed and gasped. The fresh air had never tasted so good. The crowd had disappeared. Only one child still remained, looking up at him with a big smile. Akarash was his name. One of the good ones.

"Thanks, kid. Where did the others go?"

Akarash pointed around the huts, toward the oasis. Firkaan sighed. I should have known. They only needed me to fix this.

Firkaan rose and walked toward square. Everyone was smiling, and why wouldn't they? Water had returned.

The basin was made of sandstone, about thirty meters across and ten deep. It was filling. Slowly. He had a sinking feeling that the oasis would never be full again.

They would blame him, surely. Maybe he hadn't flipped the switch all the way. Maybe he'd broken it. Well fine. They could fix the damn thing themselves next time.

But that was Firkaan's life. He was too big. Too strong. Too clumsy.

***

Horn of Koryone, thirteen years ago.

"I should just go."