Shorn: Chapter 10

The other children came out of the house soon after. “Hey!” Kit cried. “How come Ren gets to sit in your lap and I don’t?”

The boy didn’t wait for an answer. He fairly leapt into Shorn’s lap. The other two followed closely. They woke Ren up, who complained sleepily, but soon joined in the game.

Shorn wasn’t sure what the objective of the game was other than to climb all over him. Kit actually stood on his shoulder until his mother told him to get down. Lysa ran and picked some grass which she wanted to use to make him a bracelet.

“Your wrist is too big,” she complained. “I have to get longer grass. Don’t go anywhere.”

After that evening, it was like a dam broke. The children’s last fears disappeared. They were always tugging on him, wanting him to “Come see this!” or to join in some game they’d come up with.

It was hard for Shorn at first. He didn’t like being touched. He often felt like being left alone. More than once he started to refuse, to tell them he was tired or busy.

But then he thought of J’nest. He thought of little Micah, the child who’d befriended him after the Takare took him in. He remembered how fleeting such times could be. He didn’t ever want to miss them again.

Lysa was the first to ask for a horsey ride. Shorn put her up on his shoulders and galloped around the place while the others ran along behind clamoring for their turn and Melda watched from the front doorway, a smile on her face.

After that, horsey rides were daily. Melda hollered at the kids regularly to let him be so he could rest, but they mostly ignored her.

“We might need to get a real horse someday,” Shorn told Melda after carrying around each of the children. He was still breathing hard. “They’re wearing me out.”

Melda brought him a cup of water while he sat in his crude chair catching his breath.

“You can’t imagine how much difference you’ve made in their lives,” she said. “Seriously. Lysa barely spoke anymore. Pol and Kit fought constantly. There were a lot more tears. They took the death of their father over the winter hard. It was so sudden. One day, he was fine. Then he got sick with a fever. Four days later, he died.”

She was wrestling with tears. Shorn said nothing, only waited.

“You’ve brought them back to life. You’ve brought us all back to life. You gave us another chance. I don’t like to admit it, but I was about to give up and move back to the city. My mother is still alive. We could live with her while I found work.” She rubbed her eyes. “I don’t want to go back. This is our home now.”

Shorn looked around. There was still snow on the peaks, but where they were spring had hit with a vengeance. Everything was green. The streams were swollen with snowmelt. The crops were growing fast. Squirrels chattered from the trees. A robin sang from its nest.

“It is a fine place. I see why you don’t want to leave.” It truly was beautiful. How long had it been since he’d noticed beauty? How long had his world been so dark?

“You and your family have helped me too. I am not sure what is happening, but life does not seem such a…” He paused, searching for the word. “Not such a burden anymore.”

“It sounds like everyone wins.”

“Yes. It does.” That also was a strange concept. On Themor, winners and losers were clearly defined. Constant competition was a way of life. Someone won and someone lost. That was how things were.

“I am beginning to see that I have many faulty beliefs,” he added.

“How so?”

“My people believe in the fist and the tooth. What one gets, is earned by taking from another. There is always a reason to look over your shoulder. But you do not live that way.”

“Thank goodness for that. It sounds awful.”

“It is awful. My grandfather understood this. I should have listened to him more.”

“He sounds like a great man.”

“He was. He knew so much about our old ways, when we still lived on our home planet. He was always telling me stories about what life was like then.” He lowered his head. “I am ashamed to say that by the time I was old enough to understand what he was saying, I had completely rejected it. I blamed him and my father for making me weak.”

“You said you grew up in a military academy.”

“I was sent there when I was five. I only returned home, briefly, once a year. I finished when I was seventeen. I graduated earlier than most.”

“I can’t imagine having my children taken from me and only seeing them once a year. I’d be heartbroken.”

“The family bonds are not strong. As a young male, I was taught that the relationships that mattered were those I formed with my squad. But even surrounded by them, I still had to be alert. Themorians often rise by eliminating those above them.”

“Everything you say only makes it sound worse. Every time I learn something new about your past, I am even more impressed that you are the way you are now.”

“How am I now?”

“You’re gentle. I know you could probably knock our house down by punching it, but you handle Ren like she’s a baby bird. You’re always kind to the children, even when you’re tired or they’re being extra annoying. How did you do it?”

“I met Netra. She showed me something different. I was so angry at her for stealing my honorable death from me, leaving with me a life debt. But as I was around her, I began to learn that there was much more to life than I realized.”

“She stole your death? A life debt?”

“When I was first crashed here, I was filled with rage and self-hatred. I wanted nothing but to face off with a powerful foe and be killed in battle. But you people are so small. Fighting you is like fighting children. I despaired of finding my worthy foe.

“I was leaving the Plateau. I would find a foe elsewhere. I came upon Netra as she was being attacked by this tree-like creature. I had found my foe, and I welcomed my death.”

“What happened?”

“It beat me. I fell unconscious knowing I was finally free.” He frowned, remembering. “Then I woke up to find that Netra had saved my life. Almost at the cost of hers. Instead of being free, I had a life debt I was obliged to honor.” He smiled faintly at the memory. “I was so angry.”

“That’s quite a story. I wish I could meet Netra. She sounds like a very special person.”

“Her love for the world and all that lives in it knows no bounds. She is a true Tender in every sense of the word, even if she claims she is no longer one.”

That sat in silence then. But not for long. The three older children came running up, all carrying their spears. Some ways behind them, doing the best she could, was Ren. She was carrying a small stick.

“We were practicing like you showed us,” Lysa gasped, trying to catch her breath.

“They’re not doing it right!” Kit complained. “Not like you showed us.”

Shorn got up and retrieved his spear. “Show me what you’re doing.” He watched closely as the three of them lined up and began to practice the moves he’d taught them. He stopped them after a moment.

“You’re all doing it wrong.”

Groans came from the children. “Wrong!” Ren cried out, waving her stick.

“Watch me carefully.” He demonstrated the moves while they followed. Then he worked with them one at a time, helping them get their footing right, how to keep their balance.

“You extended too far, Kit. You’ll end up on your face.”

They tired of the practice as the sun began to set. Lysa and Pol took their spears inside, but Kit tossed his down on the ground and flopped on his back, arms outflung.

Shorn prodded him with one foot. “Up.”

“What is it?” Kit complained. “I’m tired.”

“Put your spear away first. If you do not take care of it, it will not take care of you.”

Kit groaned but obeyed. When he got back, he climbed onto Shorn’s lap.

Kit touched one of the scars on Shorn’s face.

“You sure have a lot of scars. What are they from?”

“Kit,” his mother admonished. “What have I said about asking rude questions?”

Kit lowered his head. “You said not to?”

Shorn cut in. “It’s okay. Children are supposed to ask questions. How will they learn else?”

The older children returned. Ren wanted up, and Shorn lifted her into his lap.

“On Themor, when a soldier does something extra brave or difficult in battle, his officer can put him up for an award.”

“You mean like a medal?” Pol asked. “I’ve seen soldiers wear them.”

“Like that. Except we do not give medals.”

Lysa got a look of awe on her face. “They give you scars instead of a medal? Ouch.” She grimaced.

“That is correct. Each scar means something. Except that they do not give scars. The warrior does it himself.”

“No way,” Kit said breathlessly.

“You did that to yourself?” Lysa exclaimed, putting her hand over her mouth.

“I did.”

“You have lots of them. You must have been very brave,” Pol said.

“At least my commanders thought so.”

Kit traced one with his finger. “I think they’re awesome. Everybody can see right away how brave you are. I want to be a soldier when I grow up.”

Shorn felt, rather than saw, Melda go very still. Before she could say anything, he spoke.

“No. You don’t.”

Kit was taken aback. Shorn had spoken far more firmly than he usually did.

“A soldier’s job is to kill when he is ordered to. A soldier doesn’t get to choose whether to obey or not. He must do what he is told, no matter what. Do you understand?”

Kit thought about it, his small brow knitting together. “They exiled you,” he said slowly, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. “That’s what you told me.”

“That is true.”

It suddenly dawned on Kit. “That’s the order you refused. You said you wouldn’t kill.”

“It is.”

“I don’t think I really want to be a soldier. I don’t want to kill anybody at all.”

“No. You do not.”

Soon the children were off again, chasing each other around and shouting.

“You handled that really well,” Melda said.

“It is something I wish I could tell my own son. But it is far too late for that.”

“It might be too late to reach your son, but you sure made an impact on mine. Thank you. My brother is a soldier. He is not like I remember him from childhood.”