Shorn: Chapter 13

Shelves lined every wall in the store from floor to ceiling. More goods were stacked on the floor. The store had a little of everything. Bolts of cloth. Large sacks of rice and flour and beans. Smaller sacks of sugar, salt and other spices. Pots and pans. Shoes, from work boots to lady’s shoes. There were also items like hairbrushes and small mirrors.

But what drew the kids like moths to a flame was the large, glass jar of hard candies on the counter. They gathered around it and stared at it in awe.

“I didn’t know there was that much candy in the whole world,” Kit said in a whisper.

“I wish I could climb in there,” Pol said. “I’d never come out.”

“Candy,” Ren said, reaching up for it. Lysa picked her up so she could see it better.

“Set those hides over here, and let’s have a look at them.” Dale pointed to a wide table to one side. He untied the strap holding the hides together and began going through them. When he was done, he turned to Melda.

“Now that the trade caravans are starting to come this way, we don’t have as much use for the hides.”

Melda’s face fell. “But you’ll still take them, won’t you?”

Dale gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll still take them. There’s always a need for leather. These are nicely tanned, too. Very soft. These rabbit furs will be easy to sell.”

Melda breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Dale. I mean that.”

“You’re most welcome. Let me go through these a little closer, while you start picking out what you need and set it on the counter. We’ll barter a bit and get it all sorted out in no time.”

Melda began shopping while Dale went through the furs again, writing numbers on a small pad as he did.

Soon Melda had a small pile of goods on the counter. Shorn could see her eyeing other items and knew she was worried about how much they’d be able to get. Dale finished with the furs and sorted through the items Melda had picked out. Melda waited, shifting from one foot to the other.

When he was done, Dale shook his head.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s not enough.”

Melda bit her lip. “How much can we get? I can put the cloth back if I have to.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, you didn’t get enough. The hides are worth more than this.”

Her expression brightened. “Really?”

“Really.”

She hurried over and picked up another bag of flour and a bag of rice.

Dale shook his head. “More.”

She picked up a large frying pan. The handle had broken off theirs recently. She turned to Dale, a questioning look on her face. He nodded, and she added it to the pile.

“That should do it.” Dale looked down at the kids meaningfully. “Only one thing missing.” The children gave a collective gasp when he took the lid off the candy. He put a handful in a small bag and set it with everything else. The children’s eyes followed the candy as if mesmerized.

He smiled at the children. “Can’t let the little ones go away disappointed, can we?”

Kit piped up first. “Thanks, mister.”

Thanks followed from the twins. Ren spent her effort trying to reach the candy, then complaining when no one lifted her onto the table.

“Unless there’s something else, I’ll help you carry this to your wagon.”

He and Shorn picked up the supplies and carried them out to the wagon. They put the items in the back. Most of the townsfolk were still hanging around to gawk at Shorn. Dale looked from Shorn to the harness lying on the ground and back again.

“Looks like you folks could use a horse.”

“Shorn is our horse!” Kit called out.

“A horse would be good,” Shorn said.

Dale scratched his chin. “I don’t know anyone who has a horse they’re trying to sell right now, but I’ll keep my ears open.”

“I forgot all about the chicks,” Melda said. “Do you know anyone who needs some chicks?”

Dale nodded. “It just so happens I heard the blacksmith complaining just the other day about how his hens are too old, and they quit laying. Try him.”

“That’s perfect, because we need things from him too.”

“His shop is just around the corner. You can leave your wagon here, if you want. Save your horse a bit of pulling.” He winked at Shorn.

“Thank you,” Melda said. “Thank you for everything.”

He beamed at her. “We’re neighbors. We have to look out for each other. I’m sorry about your husband. He was a good man.”

“He was. I miss him every day. I don’t know what we would have done if Shorn hadn’t showed up.”

Dale looked at Shorn again. “I reckon he’s mighty handy on the farm.”

“I was wondering about the palisade,” Melda said. “That wasn’t there last year.”

Dale’s expression grew somber. “We didn’t need it last year. There’s a band of raiders about, led by a man who calls himself Bloodmane. They attacked us right after the thaw. Burned down a few homes, stole what they could carry. Two people died.” He set his jaw. “We mean to be ready when they come back. You should be careful too. I know you’re far back up in the mountains, but that doesn’t mean they won’t show up at your door.”

Melda exchanged a look with Shorn. She turned back to Dale. “I think we already encountered them. Four of them anyway.”

“What happened?”

“They came to the door while Shorn was out hunting. They wanted in the house. I…don’t know what they would have done if Shorn hadn’t returned. He killed one and ran the rest off.”

Dale gave Shorn a grim look. “I reckon he did. I don’t imagine they put up much of a fight.” To Shorn, he said, “Next time kill all of them. None of us are safe as long as they’re about.”

“You really think they’ll come back?” Melda asked. “Maybe they moved on.”

“They’ll come back. Bloodmane made it clear he was returning. He said when he did, if we didn’t give him what he wanted, he’d burn the whole town and kill everyone.”

“How many men?” Shorn asked.

“I’d say about forty. They’re well-armed, too.”

“Where is their camp?”

“Off to the southwest. We think. No one has gone so far as to lay eyes on it, but we’ve seen the tracks.”

“Did they attack other towns?”

“Both Tidvale and Rocky got hit too. I don’t know about the others past them. We don’t get much traffic back here and not much news. The man from Tidvale said Bloodmane considers himself a king. He means to control this whole valley.”

“What about the true king?” Melda asked.

“That’s the thing. We’re a long way and a whole mountain range from the king’s capital in Ravenshore. He’s got too many other problems to pay any attention to us. We sent Pawl, but the king wouldn’t even see him.”

Melda’s expression grew worried. “That sounds bad.”

“It is bad. But I suppose it was bound to happen. This is good land. More people are moving in every year. Sooner or later, someone was sure to try to take it over.”

They said their goodbyes to Dale. Melda told the children to wait in the wagon and not to touch the candy yet, which brought groans and wails of protest. She and Shorn made their way to the blacksmith shop, Shorn carrying the cage with the chickens in it.

Right next to the blacksmith was the stable. Hal was standing out front, pitchfork planted beside him like a polearm. Otho was next to him, doing the same with his shovel. He still had the helmet on.

“We’re watching you, Shorn.” Hal banged the butt of his pitchfork on the ground. “Don’t try anything.”

“Yeah! What he said,” Otho echoed, earning himself a dirty look from Hal. Which he couldn’t see because the visor had fallen again.

“Didn’t I tell you to muck out the black horse’s stall?”

Otho raised the visor. “I can’t. He kicks.” He rubbed his arm. “Bites too.”

“What kind of stable hand can’t handle one horse?”

“That ain’t no normal horse, I’m telling you. It’s some kind of demon. It hates me.”

“You’re pathetic. Go away. You’re interfering with my duties as captain of the guard.”

“But I’m your sergeant. You said so yourself. I’m supposed to be here. What if you have orders?”

“I just gave you an order!”

Otho’s answer was lost inside his helmet as the visor fell again. They went into the stable, still arguing.

Shorn turned and saw the blacksmith standing in the open door of the blacksmith shop, a burly bald man with a sardonic expression on his face. “That right there is Sweetwater’s first line of defense. The Lady watch over us all, for we are surely doomed.”

Melda walked toward him. “I’m Melda, and this is Shorn.”

“I know. I was there at the gate.” He looked Shorn up and down and whistled. “Frightfully big, aren’t you? Well, you haven’t killed anyone yet, which is good. Early though. Still plenty of time left in the day for a senseless tragedy.”

Back to Melda. “I’m Jesup. What can I do for you?”

“Dale told us you needed some chickens.”

The blacksmith grunted. “Bring ‘em over here. I’ll have a look at them.” Shorn did so. Jesup looked them over. “You’re looking to trade, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Shorn spoke for the first time. “A spear head. A large one.”

Jesup raised his eyebrows. “Hey, it talks.”

Shorn did not reply. Jesup stared at him, clearly hoping he would say more.

“The spear head?” Melda asked after a bit, her tone icy.

“Sure. Let me see what I have.” He disappeared into the depths of his shop and could be heard rumbling around.

Melda frowned. “I didn’t like him speaking to you that way. Calling you ‘it’.”

“I prefer it to fear.”

She gave him a thoughtful look. “I hadn’t thought of that. He doesn’t seem all that afraid of you, does he?”

Jesup reappeared, carrying a large, iron spearhead. He tossed it to Shorn. “That what you’re looking for?”

Shorn looked it over. It was rough, rusty, and unsharpened. “It will work.”

“What else? You can get more than that for those chicks.”

“Nails.”

“I got those too. What else?”

Shorn looked at Melda. She turned to Jesup. “We need an axe in his size.”

Jesup snorted. “Lady, nothing comes in his size. I’d have to make him something custom.”

“Could you?” she asked.

Jesup crossed his arms. “I can make anything if you give me enough metal. But it will cost more than your remaining credit. You only have enough to cover about a fourth of the cost.”

Melda nodded. “Go ahead and make it. In a couple of weeks, we’ll be harvesting our first crop of squash. We can pay off the rest then.”

Jesup hesitated.

“We’ve always paid our debts to you before.”

“That was when your husband was still alive. And before Bloodmane showed up. He and his men slaughtered a family south of you a week ago. You could be next.”

Melda’s expression grew dark. “They already tried once.”

Jesup looked at Shorn again. “I’m guessing he changed their minds.”

“Shorn has an…effect on people.”

“You’re telling me. A couple of our brave citizen defenders had to go home and change their trousers after seeing him, I reckon.” He held out his hand for Melda to shake. “I still think this is all going to end badly, but I’ll make your axe for you.”

Melda squeezed his hand tightly. “Thank you so much.”

They were heading for the door when Jesup spoke again.

“If we’re going to have any chance against Bloodmane, we’re going to need your help.”

They turned back. “I will help,” Shorn said.

Melda put up her hands. “I’m not sure your fellow townsfolk want our help.”

“They’ll come around. I’ll talk to the ones I can. Dale will help.” To Shorn, he said, “Can you fight?”

Shorn nodded.

“That came out wrong. Obviously, you can fight. But do you know how to fight? Have you been in the army or anything? Because no one here knows a damn thing. They’ll crumble at the first blood.”

Shorn and Melda exchanged looks. Shorn turned back to him.

“I will train them.”